How To Mend a Broken Soul

Day Seven: Hormones are the Devil.

Harry had finally fallen asleep around one in the morning, when his face was too tired to keep up the scowl. He woke up at the crack of dawn, feeling disgruntled although in his sleepy state he couldn't be sure why. He smiled nevertheless; he could almost feel the warm weight of Ron lying behind hi...Almost?

Harry flipped around in his bed - my bed?? - only to find the white wall staring glumly back at him. Then he remembered. He hadn't actually forgotten, but he had been dead sure that when he would wake up, Ron would be back.

Why wasn't he back, anyway? Surely comforting Ginny couldn't have taken that long! Harry frowned, rolling around to glare at Ron's desperately empty bed. He had had a nightmare too, and did he go to Ron for help, hmm? Harry blushed, then shook his head. He wouldn't have done it if Ron hadn't been his boyfriend. Actually, he hadn't done it, full stop. Ron was the one to push him on the floor; Ron was the one to take him in his arms; Ron was the one to say he could cry. Harry looked haughtily at Ron's pillow, pretending it was Ginny, then his features relaxed. It was kind of silly, when he thought about it.

Feeling particularly grumpy, Harry sat up in his bed and flung his legs over the side, scratching his head. Glasses, where were his glasses... He thumped to Ron's bedside table and grabbed the small frames, pushing them on his nose with a pout. Then he made up the hour, and scowled. Six in the morning. Definitely too early to be up. Ron would have to pay for that, Harry thought with a small vengeful smirk.

He stumbled down in the living-room, intent on finding something to appease his suddenly grumbling stomach, and blinked a few times, yawning. The sky was getting a lighter blue second by second, clouds appearing here and there above the trees, a gently breeze making the leaves move like endless waves in the sea. Harry gave the wakening Nature a small smile, then turned away, and grinned before his eyes could really register what they were seeing.

Two bright mops of red hair were peeking from the back of the couch, Ginny's hair wrapped against the fabric like colourful seaweeds. Harry tiptoed closer and saw that they were asleep, Ginny leaning against Ron's chest, Ron's cheek pressed down against the top of his sister's hair. So that was why Ron never came back up. Harry felt his anger evaporating in front of the scene and crouched down, resting his arms against the back of the couch, careful not to pull on Ginny's hair.

Just like earlier in the night, he caressed the thought of joining them, but even if they had been awake he knew he would never dare to trespass on such private rituals. Minutes passed, the air around him getting dusty and specked with gold as the very first rays of sun shyly peaked up from the earth, not yet ready to blaze through the sky. Harry thought it must be around 6.30 when Ron's eyes started fluttering, then lazily opened, Ron's chest heaving with a sleepy sigh. He blinked, then his eyes slowly moved up to Harry's face, which was resting sideways against Harry's forearms.

"How long have you been looking at me?" Ron asked sleepily, stretching a bit with a smile on his lips. Then he noticed he couldn't exactly stretch, and looked down to see his little sister leaning against him, fast asleep.

"Couple of hours," Harry said, shrugging. In front of Ron's wide eyes, he chuckled and relented, "Okay, maybe not that long..."

"I'm sorry I didn't come back up," Ron muttered, looking faintly embarrassed. "We just talked and talked and then she didn't feel like going back alone right away..."

Harry shrugged, trying his best to look like sleeping with Ron was the last thing on his list. It was bad enough that he was so needy, he wasn't going to let Ron know it! "What...what did she dream about?" he asked, hoping his change of subject wouldn't sound too nosy.

Ron looked down at his little sister, then carefully pushed her into a sitting position, so that he could get up from the couch. He then bent down and took her in his arm, and finally answered Harry's question, while walking to the stairs. "Second year," he said, then started climbing.

Harry followed him, brows furrowed for a second or two. "Oh..." he murmured when what had happened in their second year came back to him. "Vol--"

"Yes," Ron said, and Harry couldn't help but smile at how Ron had been sure to interrupt him.

They were already in front of Ginny's room, and Harry slithered in front of Ron to open the door.

"She kept having nightmares when we were in Egypt, although she never said anything about it to mom. Since we shared a room anyway, she just crawled in with me whenever she was too afraid," Ron explained as he and Harry climbed the last flight of stairs back to Ron's room. Harry felt butterflies in his stomach at the thought of Ron acting so brother-like with Ginny, and he felt the same urge as the night before to hug Ron to death and beg him to make him a part of all that...and then he grinned, because he realized that he was a part of it, already.

"What are you grinning at?" Ron asked, turning to Harry in front of his bedroom door.

"Nothing!" Harry promptly said, afraid Ron would think he was smiling at Ginny's hardships. "I just...it's just..." he stammered, going faintly red in the face. "You're just very nice with your sister, that's all," he said to the floor.

Ron cocked his head to the side, looking surprised; then he smiled and opened his door. "Don't tell that to anybody, 'kay? The twins would have a feat if they knew I'm brotherly."

Harry smiled and nodded, then asked: "Does she still have nightmares often?"

Ron sat on the edge of his bed, Harry still standing in the middle of the room. "Nope. But sometimes...she doesn't know if...well, see, she tells me she dreams about things she did, while she was in a trance. And it's disturbing her deeply, because well you know, she doesn't know if it's just dreams, or if it's really what she did. She never tells me exactly what happens in her dreams, but I can tell it's not something an eleven year old girl should have gone through."

Harry silently nodded, looking ill-at-ease. There was silence for a while, then to Harry's surprise Ron grinned and stood up, a feral gleam in his eyes. "But anyway! Enough talk about Ginny. If I remember well..." He slipped his arms around Harry's waist and leaned closer to him; Harry felt his breath get lost somewhere between his lungs and his throat. "...weren't we right in the middle of something when she came in?"

Harry sighed shakily, memory of what they had been doing coming back full force to certain parts of his anatomy. Ron stepped closer; there was less than an inch between their bodies now, and Ron's hair came brushing against Harry's forehead as he leaned down, smirking sexily. "Did you miss me?" he jokingly asked, his lips tantalizingly close to Harry's parted mouth.

"Oh yes," Harry gasped before he could even think about it. Ron's lips were on his a second later, hot and urgent. However, Harry quickly pushed his friend away, looking embarrassed. "Sorry," he mumbled, turning away with a grimace; "I've got morning breath..."

"I don't care," Ron said firmly, turning Harry back to him. "I've got morning breath too, so we can just suffocate each other," he added with a smile, leaning in to kiss Harry again.

Harry giggled, so that his lips kept bumping against Ron's in a not-so-agreeable way.

"Hey, be serious!" Ron scolded. "I'm kissing you here."

Of course, it only made Harry laugh harder. Ron gave up on kissing and shook his head, sighing.

"Close your eyes," he said after two minutes of mad Potter-giggles.

"Why?" Harry asked, grinning.

"You'll see," Ron said mysteriously. "Come on, close your eyes."

Harry did, but just as Ron reached up his eyelids fluttered slightly open, and Ron yanked his hand away. "No peeking!" he chastised, smiling in spite of himself.

"Okay, okay," Harry grumbled, closing his eyes again. This time, Ron waited up to ten seconds, just to be sure. Then he finally reached up again, gently took Harry's glasses off, and with the tip of his fingers, slowly traced the edges of Harry's face, feather-like. Harry giggled at first, but then Ron's fingers brushed against his lips and Harry's breathing hitched.

Ron's fingers travelled on the bridge of Harry's nose, skimmed over his closed eyelids, and zigzagged back down Harry's cheek, to once again trace Harry's parted lips. "See? Told you you had nothing to fear," Ron said, smirking.

Harry didn't open his eyes, but his tongue flashed out to take a lick at Ron's finger, the corner of his lips curling up slightly. It was Ron's turn to forget how to breathe, his mouth slowly falling open as Harry's tongue lured his fingertip forward, his lips softly closing around it before letting it slip free again. Ron's arm fell back at his side like it was made of stone.

Harry opened his eyes to see Ron gaping at him, his cheeks tinged by a discreet but spreading flush. He shot him quite a flirtatious smile, then unconsciously bit on his lower lip, letting the flesh loose little by little. Ron's eyes got a little wider and he seemed to want to speak, but his lips weren't moving enough for any sound to be heard. Harry cocked his head to the side, his hair falling gracefully on his forehead, and Ron finally said, his voice chocked up: "Cou..." He coughed. "Could you do t-that again?" Then he gulped down loudly.

Harry's smile turned bewildered, but he gently took hold of Ron's wrist, bringing his fingers back to his lips. Ron stared at Harry's mouth, breathing in quick puffs. His body was agreeably tense with expectation, small waves of warmth spreading shyly in his stomach.

With a last smile, Harry wrapped his lips around Ron's index finger once again, his tongue coming to lick the soft digit, once, twice, before suddenly sucking the finger in deeper, up to the second knuckle. His eyes almost fell closed and Ron's mouth fell wide open.

It was over way too soon if you asked him, and when Harry's slender fingers left his wrist he almost whined, already missing the contact.

"What?" he croaked when Harry started laughing, absentmindedly wiping his finger on his cotton pants.

"I think smoke is going to come out of your ears any minute now!" Harry replied, still laughing.

Ron took two seconds to get control of his body, which seemed to be resumed to his index finger just then, and literally pounced on Harry, almost growling. "I'll give you smoke..." he said with a menacing voice, pulling Harry towards the bed.

He sat on it and boldly pulled Harry on his lap, resting his hands gently but firmly on Harry's hips. His mouth immediately glued itself to Harry's neck, his teeth giving a small bite to his collarbone. His brain was swarming again with everything they had been doing earlier that night, and everything they could have done if only Ginny's dreams hadn't struck again at the wrong moment.

Harry let out a small gasp, his arms curling around Ron's back to grip his shoulders from behind. After a while, he started feeling like his own shoulder was taken for a corn cob, but all in all, it was rather nice--"Mmm..."--fine, really nice. He thought if Ron ever did that again, he would call him The Squirrel, but seeing the poor two neurones currently at work in his brain, he doubted he would be able to remember it.

Ron's teeth moved up Harry's neck and tried to bite the soft skin linking it to his head. Harry threw his head backwards to give Ron access and unconsciously pressed his hips down, his budding arousal meeting Ron's very own one in the nicest of ways. Both of them moaned, and Harry shifted to wrap his legs around Ron's waist, pressing himself further against him.

Gradually, as Ron's lips moved over his skin as if it was made of the sweetest substance ever, Harry realized he didn't have his shirt on any longer; but the realization was quickly wiped away when Ron took a fleeting lick at his right nipple on his way to the other one. There were hands on Harry's lower back, and a hungry mouth pushing him backwards, seeking further flesh. Harry closed his eyes and leant away from Ron, carefully holding Ron's upper arms not to fall completely backwards, gasping when he felt lips tracing his faintly protruding ribs, then the gutter going down to his waist. Harry was almost lying on Ron's knees when his lips halted, unable to reach Harry's navel. His hands glided up Harry's back, gradually raising him until Harry was leaning on his shoulders, kissing him with what looked suspiciously (deliciously) like fervour.

Harry hooked his arms behind Ron's head, his hands crossing at the wrists like angel wings; he kissed Ron harder, morning breath all but forgotten, shuddering when Ron's hands gripped his buttocks and ground their middles together.

In one remarkably fluid movement, Harry found himself lying on his back, Ron moving to lie down between his spread legs, mouth back to explore Harry's heaving chest. The movement of his hips turned more aggressive, needier, and Harry felt intimidated for an instant, even though this wasn't exactly new to him anymore. Ron's mouth sealed itself on his out of nowhere and Harry forgot about his fleeting hesitation, hands clenching around Ron's sides, legs creeping up in the air, knowing by instinct how to angle Harry's middle for ultimate gratification.

He almost bit on Ron's tongue at the sudden wave of pleasure that flashed through him, and when his knees brushed his hands he automatically gripped them, pressing his palms under the soft underside and keeping his legs bent up, shins parallel with Ron's chest.

Harry was sure he must look completely preposterous right then, but he couldn't have cared less, and neither could have Ron, visibly. He was staring down at Harry with vibrant eyes, sweat beads glistening on his forehead, drenching some of his hair. It felt really weird, this silence. Harry dimly realized they hadn't said a word for a good ten minutes and half-wished Ron would speak, would it be only to say Harry's name, to break the heaviness of moans and grunts and the springs of the bed getting squeakier and squeakier.

"Ron," he whispered, just to say something. Two seconds later he said it again, but louder. "Ron!"

"Wh-what?" Ron panted.

"I think I heard noise on the landing," Harry said, suddenly looking worried. His feet fell back on the mattress, his head rolling back to try and see the door behind them.

"You're delirious," Ron stated, increasing the strength of his movements.

Harry gasped and moaned, his back arching up. Ron's hands slithered down and kept it that way, one palm firmly resting on Harry's lower back.

"I swear I...oh!...heard something..." Harry stammered again, giving up on staring at the door to preserve his poor neck. "Ron...what if it...was Ginny...again?"

"I...don't...care..." Ron grunted. He collapsed onto Harry's chest, squashing them both down on the sweat-drenched mattress, his head falling against Harry's shoulder. He closed his eyes in concentration, wishing Harry would stop talking and start moving his hips again. He was so close, if Harry would only stop talking, he could almost touch his orgasm, the warmth and peculiar pain building in his body, ready to burst and spread. "Har..." he tried to beg.

"But--"

"I...can't...stop...anyway," Ron finally said, exasperation showing through. How come Harry was still able to form speech anyway?! How could he even think about anything but getting his release?! "Harry," he moaned, almost menacingly, his hands gripping Harry's hips and forcing them back in movement.

Harry sighed, then moaned, and gave up, silently praying for the door to stay closed, for the walls to muffle the sounds.

"Let them walk in..." Ron finally grunted, pushing himself back up. He shifted a bit and suddenly Harry's pupils dilated, and right then Ron knew that no coherent speech would come out of Harry's mouth again. He smiled hungrily and kissed Harry's swollen lips, moaning in relief when Harry's hands and legs started pushing, pulling and caressing his body again, his lips greedily trying to swallow Ron's tongue.

He wouldn't have expected that kind of potential trouble to arouse him so, but Harry discovered that the idea of being walked in upon, that urgency to reach bliss before the spell was broken, was amazingly sexy. It filled him with adrenalin, a bit like trying to steal stuff from Snape's office when Snape himself might barge in any minute, but ten thousand times stronger. Maybe like shagging on Snape's desk, then.

Harry's arms left Ron's body and slowly stretched above his head, his fingers curling around the wooden bars of Ron's bedpost. His legs curled up around Ron's hips, his arse lifting off the bed with every hump, Ron's hands pressing on his sweaty back.

He gasped Ron's name as the first wave of his orgasm hit him. His eyes went wide and he stared up at Ron's flushed face like he was having an epiphany, the green of his eyes getting darker, like the grass at night. He had never ever felt so...strongly. Because it was so fierce and unsettling that if he had been able to talk right then, Harry wouldn't have called it "good". It was too powerful to be good. It was...overpowering.

Harry slapped his hand on his mouth, trying to stifle the cry to come, but Ron yanked his hand away and brushed his lips against Harry's ones, smiling. "I want to hear it," he murmured, even though Harry shook his head, looking panicked. "I don't care if anybody else hears," Ron added, before lowering his head and biting on Harry's neck. Harry's body tensed from toes to neck and he came with a shout, efficiently waking the ghoul up, and some deep part of his brain hoped that the plumbing noises would drown out the rest of his cries as orgasm swept through him, then through Ron, whose groans were muffled against Harry's wet neck, his teeth unconsciously clenching more against the skin.

Their bodies fell immobile and for a long time remained so, both boys feeling too spent to move a finger, falling in and out of a peaceful doze, every part of their bodies in contact with the other's feeling electric.

Ron was pretty sure his heart hadn't survived to his orgasm, even though something inside him was still beating hard enough to start making a hole in his ribcage. He had thought that masturbation was great, but this...this was so Grand Ron wasn't sure he would ever take pleasure in jerking off again. He felt like a tornado had whizzed through him, pushing all his organs in untidy piles on the sides and leaving a warm, shivering emptiness in the middle.

Harry slowly let go of the wooden bar his left hand was still painfully clutching and laid his arm back on his side, his muscles sore. He wanted to put his legs back down as well, but his feet seemed to be stuck together behind Ron's thighs.

After many more minutes, Ron's lips travelled up Harry's neck to his face and Ron shifted a little, resting his forearms on either side of Harry's head and kissing him gently. Harry suddenly realized he could feel wetness against his stomach and lower, drenching his flimsy boxers and tainting his pants. He had...

Ron kissed him again and Harry's thoughts stopped for a while. He couldn't believe how alluring Harry looked, with his swollen lips and flushed cheeks, with his hair plastered against his forehead, and his body limp and warm under him...It was...It was beyond description, Ron thought.

...with Ron. He had...Oh come on sissy, just think it! Malfoy urged in an exasperated tone. He had - cough - come...with Ron. Not alone in his bed, afraid somebody would hear. No. Loudly, with his best friend's body atop of him. Because his best friend's body had been on top of him. And now they were still pressed against each other, with gooey pants trapped between their middles. Harry blushed.

Then Ron sighed and said, "I think we should change pants," with a grimace, and Harry felt slightly hurt even though he had been thinking the same thing. Ron lazily crawled back into a sitting position, his buttocks rising in the air very temptingly, then got up from the bed and straight to a drawer. He flung a clean pair of pants in Harry's direction, then searched some more.

Harry gripped the sheet and covered himself with it, blushingly discarding his stained underwear and pants, pushing them with his feet to the bottom of the bed. Ron stopped searching, glanced back at Harry, who wasn't looking, then quickly stepped out of his own clothes, glad that his shirt was so long, and into the fresh pair of pants.

"Can't find clean underwear," he said one second later, jumping back on the bed. Harry hadn't had time to put his pair on and he blushed crimson when Ron tried to yank the sheet away from his half-naked body.

"C'mon, let me see," Ron said, laughing and fighting to take a peek at Harry's body, getting kicked in the stomach and the thighs by Harry's feet. Harry yanked on the pants and smiled, releasing the white sheet from under his arms. Ron pouted, then crawled under the sheet anyway, lying back on top of a relieved-looking Harry. "You're no fun," he complained, before kissing the proffered mouth with a sigh.

"...d'you think we'll ever get tired of that?" Harry asked a little dreamily two minutes later, gazing up into Ron's pool-like eyes.

"Tired of what?"

Harry didn't answer, and after a few seconds Ron smiled: "Kissing? Or is--"

But Harry nodded hastily, because he knew very well what other option Ron was going to propose. Although "Both" would indeed have been appropriate for an answer, as well.

"I don't think so," Ron whispered, diving in for another kiss.

"Y'know, how can something so...how can that feel so good?" Harry asked after a few blissful kisses, frowning slightly in concentration. In front of Ron's interrogative look, he continued: "Well, I mean...we use our mouths to eat, to burp, to vomit..." Ron giggled. "Well, we do. So I mean, who got the idea to...who invented kissing? Seems quite weird to me."

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"You think way too much."

*~*~*

"Oh, it's a letter from Hermione!" Ginny said a few hours later, as they were all eating breakfast. She had shown no clue that she had had troubles sleeping the night before, and Ron didn't fuss over her, as if nothing had happened. Which Harry understood completely, even though Malfoy piped up once or twice: If she can pretend so well, why did the whiny prat have to interrupt you?! Harry pretended he hadn't heard that, instead devoting all his attention on his giant plate of eggs and sausages, on which Malfoy seemed equally keen.

Mrs Weasley looked up from the letter she herself was writing, smiling. "It really is a shame we couldn't tell her about the party. If only they had sent the badges sooner..."

"Oh, she couldn't have come anyway, she says they're visiting her family until the 1^st," Ginny said, her eyes scanning Hermione's parchment. She grinned then, and added, rolling her eyes: "Oh, surprise, she got the badge!"

Harry and Ron grinned as well, and Mrs Weasley beamed, her cheeks getting pinker than usual. "Such a good girl...of course she would get the badge."

Harry missed the hurt look that flashed across Ron's face, too concentrated on eating as many sausages as he could.

"They were a bit frightened when an owl swooped down in the garden at lunch today," Ginny started reading, "but when they saw what it was bringing, needless to say they were all delighted. I won't pretend I wasn't expecting it, but it still was a thrill to find the prefect's badge in the envelope!! My parents are very proud; Prefect is something they can understand easily, wizzarding world or not. I suppose this is going to make this year even more hectic for me, what with the OWLs coming up, but who cares?" Ginny rolled her eyes along with Ron and Harry, smirking. "I just hope it won't be too much for Harry, what with Quidditch practices on top of it all. He did get the badge, didn't he? It will be such fun doing our duty together!!"

An awkward silence fell on the kitchen like steel, and when Harry glanced sideways at Ron, he saw that he had stopped mid-movement, his fork full of scrambled eggs frozen in mid-air. Ginny was peering at Ron, too, over the letter, looking scared; Harry thought she had probably understood the fight she had walked on in the day before more than she had seemed to.

Then Ron slowly put the fork back on his plate, staring at it, and got up, his gestures composed and deliberate, his body starting to tremble with contained emotion.

"Oh Ron I'm sure she didn't..." But Molly's sentence faded out all by itself as Ron strode away and disappeared behind the corner separating the living-room from the kitchen.

Ginny lowered her letter, grimacing. "If I had known she would say that, I would have stopped reading..." she said grimly, looking at Harry as if he was the one who had just been insulted.

"Oh well," Molly said, folding her own letter, before grabbing a kitchen cloth and waving her wand at the sink, which started filling itself with water and bubbles. "She..." But once again, she stopped. No matter how hard she tried to come up with a sentence that wouldn't imply that Hermione had no way to even suspect Ron could have ever gotten the badge...she couldn't find it. And she didn't mean that Hermione had no way to suspect it, of course, but the fact that she couldn't say it made her motherly heart shatter, and she quickly distracted herself by cleaning the dishes, even though it was Ron's turn to help.

Harry was still sitting at the table, looking down at his plate without much enthusiasm. He couldn't decide if he should go see Ron right then, or if leaving him alone for a while would be cleverer. He didn't want to fight with Ron again, and this time there was no reason to: he was quite mad at Hermione. But he knew that if Ron started shouting at him, then he would inevitably shout back. He got up and started cleaning the table, helped by Ginny, then stood in the middle of the kitchen, aimless.

"Ginny dear, would you mind reading the rest of the letter, or is it personal?" Molly said, up to her elbows in scented bubbles.

Ginny grinned and sat on the table, unfolding the letter. "No, don't worry. I'll skip the pornographic parts."

Molly laughed, and Harry swayed, then finally exited the kitchen, thinking he would see how Ron looked and base his course of action on it. He hadn't expected Ron to be sitting on the stairs, and he panicked at first; Ron's dejected look quickly proved that shouting wouldn't be involved, though, and Harry felt his heart constrict at seeing his best friend (boyfriend) so sad, yet again. If only Hermione hadn't jumped to conclusions and stupid conclusions at that, Harry thought angrily.

He was sure Hermione's silly letter would take a long time to read, and the twins had already gone back up to their room ages ago, so, after one second of hesitation, he joined Ron on the stairs, sitting on the step just above him and slipping his legs on either side of Ron's body, and his arms around Ron's waist.

"Hey," he said softly. Ron wouldn't lean back against him, stubbornly hunching over his knees, so Harry bent forward as well, pressing a warm kiss against Ron's neck. He waited one second, then added: "You're not really mad about that, are you?"

Ron didn't answer, but the way his face tensed was speaking for itself. Harry sighed and kissed him on the cheek, hugging him closer. "Hey," he said again, "it doesn't mean she thought you couldn't get it..."

"Yes it did," Ron said sulkily, staring at his feet. "She probably won't believe Ginny when she tells her it's me who got it. Like everybody else."

Harry frowned, but refrained from snapping something back. Instead, he kissed Ron on the neck again and let his hands travel down, stopping them on Ron's thighs and squeezing lightly. Ron sighed, his face relaxing in a flash, and Harry grinned. Maybe the message would be better received that way.

"She will be thrilled that you got it," he said firmly, still petting Ron's thighs. "You're also her best friend, have you forgotten it? She'll be glad you can do all your boring Prefect stuff together."

Ron remained obstinately silent, apart from a sigh or two.

"Hey," Harry softly said yet again, forcing Ron to look at him. He smiled and kissed Ron on the lips, glad Ron kissed him back.

Ron's hands covered Harry's, sneakily trying to move them further up, and Harry smiled into the kiss, inwardly rolling his eyes.

Depressed my a--

"Oh and Ginny, please tell the boys I need them to de-gnome the garden again. I want to put the tables out tonight."

Ron sprung to his feet and Harry, dangerously close to falling flat on his face, gripped the first thing that his hands could reach, which turned out to be Ron's pyjama pants. The pants gave way, Ron tried to grab them too late, and Ginny gaped at them both, a deep blush quickly spreading from her cheeks to her neck, along with a grin much like the one she had sported the night before upon discovering Ron's...condition. Ron thanked heavens that his shirt was so long, preserving his decency (why oh why hadn't he looked harder for fresh underwear?!) but not saving him from mortification, and Harry, after gaping at Ginny for a second or two, finally came back to his senses and quickly let go of Ron's pants, now piled around Ron's ankles, his cheeks red not from embarrassment but from suppressed laughter

"...I'd really have preferred if it'd been the other way 'round, you know," Ginny finally said through choked down giggles, before passing them by and going up to her room. She burst out laughing after a few steps, then managed to choke out, turning around: "Oh, yeah...and...mum wants you to..."

"We know," Ron said surly, still too dazed to move or put his pants back on. Harry already had his mouth opened when Ron said, not turning around: "And if you say anything, mate, you won't live to see the moon rise."

*~*~*

"Fifty points!!" Fred exclaimed, punching the air with his fists in a victorious dance.

De-gnoming was always more fun when you were several taking care of it, and today they had gone as far as tracing white lines on the grass of the neighbouring field, opening the official Gnome Throwing season. At first they had had to run in every direction between each throw, trying to capture the little devils, but when they started counting points, the gnomes suddenly got very interested, and were now queuing to be thrown. The summer air was regularly filled with the fading "Weeee!!!" of a gnome being sent through the air, rolling itself up in the hopes of landing farther away.

Harry grabbed one by its feet and started twirling it above his head as if it were a lasso, his face scrunched up with concentration.

"So Harry, think you can beat that, eh?" Fred asked, trying to make him lose his concentration by the mere strength of his will.

Fred wasn't the only one staring. Ron was literally devouring Harry with his eyes, confident that everybody else was also looking that way anyway. They had been working in the garden for two hours and Ron's fantasy had grown to huge proportions. At first he just daydreamed about pecking Harry on the lips while the others were busy chasing after gnomes. Then maybe slip his hands under Harry's shirt, just for one second or two, and feel his hot and sweaty body. After the first hour, Ron was almost angry at Harry for not having taken his t-shirt off yet, even though nobody else had either. But by now, his brain was swarming with images of Harry pinned to the ground, shirtless, sweaty and languorous, and Ron could almost feel the taste of Harry's sun-bathed skin on his tongue. His hands were tickling with impatience and he prayed for his ordeal to end soon, else...oh god else something horrible would happen.

"Hey, there's mail," Ginny suddenly said, pointing left. A brown barn owl gracefully swooped down to the opened kitchen window and disappeared inside silently.

Harry threw his gnome while looking at the owl, reaching a poor twenty, and they all rushed back to the house to see what the news were. Ron almost ran headlong into his mother, who was about to go out. She smiled, then handed him an envelope.

"It's from your brother," she said, as if Ron had only one brother who could write to him.

"Percy," Ron said when Harry tiptoed behind him, trying to see the writing. They all sat down at the table and he read the letter silently, with ten pairs of eyes looking more or less intently at him. Finally, he put the parchment down and sighed, shrugging. "He can't come tonight. Too busy. ...but well, he says he's very proud of me, of course. You're on the right path to Head Boyship now, I am so glad you have decided to follow my footsteps," he said with what was supposed to be Percy's voice.

Everybody chuckled except Molly, who looked thoroughly disappointed.

Ron saw it and smiled at his mom. "Hey, mom, it's okay. Really." His tone lacked enthusiasm, but Molly sighed and nodded, taking the parchment to read it herself.

"Ah, well, you know," she said, sighing again, "he has got to keep the pretence, after all."

"Pretence?" Harry whispered into Ron's ear.

"Yeah," Ron said; "You know, with the Ministry pretending You-know-you isn't back and everything--"

"What?" Harry almost shouted.

The room fell silent and every Weasley present turned their eyes to Harry. Molly looked embarrassed, and Ron ready to slap himself.

"The Ministry's saying to all who will listen that you made it up," Ron muttered, looking away from Harry and from his mother.

Harry's mouth was working over air, his eyes wide. "How..." he tried to say, but the rest wouldn't come. "How..."

"Because Fudge is a coward and a lot of names I won't say here," Molly said, earning herself whistles from the twins. She smiled slightly, then continued, her tone serious: "He doesn't want to believe that what happened to you at the end of last year is true. So of course he tells everybody else that you made it up."

"How could I h--"

"We know you didn't, Harry," Ginny interrupted before Harry could start shouting.

"How would have Cedric died, anyway!" Fred said, then looked worriedly at Harry, maybe fearing a breakdown of some sorts.

But Harry was staring at Mrs Weasley, waiting for further explanations. Nobody noticed that Ron had gripped his hand under the table, soothingly running his thumb over it.

"And people are only too glad to believe him," Molly said, sighing. "Harry, what happened before...before you..."

"Before your parents died," Ron interrupted helpfully, squeezing Harry's hand gently.

"Well, I guess you can imagine how horrible it was for everyone," Molly continued. "People thought they were rid of You-know-who, and they don't want him to be back."

"But...But he is back!" Harry said. "People have got to be ready, they...they..." He sighed, defeated. So what? People would just wait until Voldemort had raised an army again?

"Dumbledore knows that, Harry," Molly said with a small proud smile. "And a lot of people prefer listening to him than to that...Mr Fudge," she said just in time, her cheeks flushing a little.

Harry's hand was all sweaty by then and Ron discreetly wiped it on his own jeans before holding it again, making Harry chuckle. Molly looked at him weirdly, but Ron quickly started speaking to divert her attention.

"So anyway, at first Percy was so disgusted that he almost resigned, but we thought it would be better if he stayed there. First, if he resigned and not dad, people would be suspicious. And then...it's always good for the Order to have people working in the place."

"What's the Order?" Harry asked, turning to Ron with surprise.

Ron winced, then glanced at his mother, wishing he knew how to keep his mouth shut. It wasn't that Harry shouldn't know about it, but he wished he had found a better way to inform him of Dumbledore's plans.

"The Order of the Phoenix, dear," Molly said, shaking her head at Ron. Harry already had his mouth open when she rushed on: "We didn't talk about any of it sooner because we thought you already had enough on your plate." Harry closed his mouth shut. "As I told you, there are people who believe that He's back, Harry. And some of these people...Well, you see, back during the first war, Dumbledore had created a...a secret service, if you want, to try and anticipate what You-know-who could be up to and such. Now that He's back, the Order has been re-formed." Harry opened his mouth again--"But don't count on me to tell you anything more about it," Molly said, her lips curling up despite herself. "The Order is a secret and must stay so. Unless you are a member, you have no need whatsoever to know what they are doing."

"She's been like that all summer," George said, glaring at his mother. "Dad, Percy and her are all members, but we can't know anything because we're not old enough to be in...even though we are old enough to be in, of course," he added, pointing at himself and Fred.

"You are still in school!" Molly exclaimed. Her patience looked thin; Harry guessed the matter had been discussed a great deal before he came to their house.

George didn't add anything, but grumbled loudly under his breath.

"I can't believe Percy doesn't follow what the Ministry says!" Harry whispered when Molly was out of earshot, grinning.

Ron, who was still holding his hand, whispered back, "Yeah, I know, big surprise. I guess, y'know, with what happened last year and all, with Crouch...I reckon it has shown Percy that ambition isn't everything. ....but personally? I think he's just glad not to choose a side. He can still suck up to the Ministry and plot with the Order...good deal, if you want my opinion."

Harry nodded but didn't say anything more; he didn't like to take sides either, when it came to the Weasley family. He loved them all dearly and his worst fear was to get some of them angry at him. Ron, in an uncanny display of perceptiveness, seemed to realize it, and didn't press Harry to approve his theory. His brain was too busy picturing Harry under the shower he was obviously going to take, anyway.

*~*~*

Harry prepared himself to fill his plate at the buffet for what seemed like the tenth time, butterbeer stuck between two fingers. The party was small, but everybody was talking so loudly and making such a racket that you could have easily thought there were thirty people in the Burrow's garden.

Ron, who was near the kitchen door, talking with Bill, caught Harry's eye and grinned. Harry grinned back, feeling his cheeks heating up. He was still giddy from a few hours before, when, upon entering the bathroom, he had found himself pinned against the tiled wall by a very wet and almost naked Ron, who had proceeded to kiss him thoroughly.

Then, when Harry was totally winded, Ron had stepped back unblushingly, bent down to fetch his towel, cautiously wrapped it around his waist again, and left the bathroom nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened. Harry thought he must have stayed at least fifteen minutes standing there, staring at the empty spot where Ron's naked and glistening body had stood a second before, some parts now vividly engraved in Harry's mind.

"So, Harry, what's up with you?" Sirius asked, making Harry jump.

"Nothing!!" Harry almost shouted, unconsciously pulling on his shirt. He suddenly wished he was wearing Dudley's old jeans, and not those stupid new fitting ones. "Nothing," he repeated, quietly this time. He coughed, then asked: "And you?"

"Oh, not much...enjoying the festivities," Sirius said, waving his hand around lazily. "...Harry, is everything okay? You look kind of down in the mouth."

Well, that'd be the only place I'm down... Harry thought, then blushed at his guttery brain. He regretfully took his eyes away from Ron's profile and, for lack of something better, stared at the appetizers, on the table behind him. Mini-sausages. Great...

"Harry?"

"Yes, everything's okay!" Harry exclaimed, shooting his godfather what he hoped was the I'm-so-cute grin (Ron had given him a short class about his smiles this right morning, making Harry hesitate between howling with laughter and hitting Ron with his pillow), and not the your-body-is-so-sexy-I-can't-believe-it grin (at that point, Ron had indeed gotten the pillow straight in his face, for "obvious bragging", as Harry had declared). "I'm having a great time, actually."

"Glad to hear it. I've been really worried about you lately, you're always sulking off to you room," Sirius said, looking at his godson in speculation. Harry did look a bit feverish. "Are you sure you're not sick?"

It took a second, but when the information sunk in Harry looked up at Sirius abruptly, staring at him with widening eyes. "How in hell do you know I've been sulking off in my room?!"

Sirius shrugged his question off, tilting his head to the side and squinting. Harry was suddenly blushing again, for no reason that he could fathom.

He had talked to Molly earlier in the evening, because he wanted to know if Harry was alright after what had happened to him during the Tournament, and everything she had said about Harry's behaviour had reminded Sirius of when he had fallen in love with Remus, during a memorable Christmas break. But when he had shared his theory (namely, that Harry was obviously falling in love with her daughter) with Molly, she had laughed, looking almost mischievous.

After two seconds of this close examination, Harry turned his eyes away from Sirius and coughed, his cheeks getting a deeper pink. It all made sense, really. Sirius felt his lips stretching into a grin and said, teasingly, "Haaa-rry..."

Harry peered up at him, then looked back down, blushing crimson.

"Ha!" Sirius exclaimed, almost hopping on the spot. "I knew it! I tried to tell Molly, but would she listen? No! She thinks she knows everything about her children!"

"What are you trying to say?" Harry asked two seconds later than normal, having schooled his features into what he hoped was an innocent look. He knew, though, that to succeed he would need to look into Sirius' eyes for more than one second on end. But Sirius couldn't know, could he? How could he...how could he know?! Harry thought, his usual inner voice sounding frantic (his Malfoy-voice was sitting in a corner, looking thoroughly amused).

"I knew it would happen sooner or later, you two are just perfect for each other!" Sirius continued. He and Remus had had a long discussion about Harry a few months before, discussion which had ended with a match between whether Ginny or Hermione would be better for him. Sirius had actually claimed, at first, that what Harry undoubtedly needed was a guy ("Let's say...Ron!"), but Remus had looked at him as if he was stupid and Sirius had therefore reported his vote on the next best red-headed thing: Ginny. "I'm glad you finally realized your feelings for her!"

Harry was about to frantically deny having any feelings for Ron, when the "her" sunk it. And then it all dawned on him. Harry's eyes got wide as saucers and he exclaimed, louder than what was decent, "I'm not with Ginny!!"

"Okay, Harry. I got it," Sirius said, winking. "Don't want anyone to know. I'm good with that. I had a..." he coughed, "relationship like that once, too. Just remember, if there's anything you need, I'm here to talk."

"But I'm not with Ginny!!" Harry said again. "I'm..." After all, what wrong could it do? He wasn't obliged to say it was Ron...and maybe Sirius could give him some advice. "Okay, I'm with someone, but...Not Ginny." Then, wiping the embarrassment away, a strange smirk spread his lips. "Are you with someone, then?"

Sirius' mouth dropped open and he suddenly avoided Harry's mocking eyes, his fingers dancing at his sides, playing with his belt, scratching his jeans, before finally flying to his hair. "Well, as it so happens...yes, I am..."

Harry smiled triumphantly, hands on his hips. "With whom?"

"...but I fail to see what that has to do with anything."

"It has everything to do with everything!" Harry exclaimed, looking stubborn.

Sirius seemed to hesitate, then reluctantly said, "I don't...I don't think you know h...them."

"Is it that girl over there?" Harry asked, pointing in the direction of a small group of people. "What's her name..."

"Who, Tonks?!" Sirius barker with laughter, shaking his head. "Um...Harry...no. She's my cousin."

"Oh."

"Besides...she's not exactly...my type."

"...well, who is it then?" Harry prodded. "Is there other girls in the Order?"

"No, it's not a girl in the Order," Sirius said, smiling at his own wit in that way that never failed to annoy Remus. "But we're not talking about my current love life," he corrected sternly. "We're talking about whatever it is that's making you all sneaky and mood-swingy."

"I'm not sneaky!!"

"Harry. You run back up to your room as soon as dinner's over. You're never around the house during the day, and you're awfully quiet during meals," Sirius enumerated, looking very much patronizing.

"How do you know all that?!" Harry asked, peering at Sirius' face. "Are you spying on me?!" He looked positively outraged.

"No, Harry," Sirius replied, trying to sound exasperated. "Molly was worried. She asked me to talk to you about it...you know, give you some godfatherly-advice."

Harry glared at Molly, who was talking with Lupin some distance away. Then he realized the implications of her request and glanced worriedly at Ron, who had his back turned on him now, wondering if they had been discreet enough. Although...if they hadn't been, then Sirius probably wouldn't have talked about Ginny, right?

"Well...maybe," he finally admitted, back to staring at his shoes. "But she didn't have to tell you about that!" he added, for form's sake. "I...uh...I met..." He suddenly brightened up. "I met a girl in Hogwarts! Last year."

"Oh!" Sirius looked a bit surprised. Everything Molly had told him - even though she had seemed strangely reluctant, for somebody whose idea it had been to gossip about Harry - had rather pointed at Harry having a girlfriend right now, not before. Maybe they were still writing to each other... "So, tell me about his girl. What's her name?"

"Uh..." Harry almost said 'Cho', but decided against it. The last thing he wanted was Sirius teasing him for the rest of his life with a girl he actually had had a crush on. Thing was, he couldn't for the life of him think of another girl's name. "Hermione" and "Ginny" kept turning in his head, and he knew he was taking too long and panicked, before spluttering out, "Pe--Penny!" He sighed, glad it hadn't been anything sounding like 'Ron'. "Penny, yeah, that's her name."

"Penny..." Sirius said, sounding like he was testing the name, like an old wine. "Come on, Harry," he pressed two seconds later, grinning. "I want details. This is exciting! My godson's first relationship!"

Harry didn't know what to think. On the one hand, it was extremely nice to see Sirius so happy and...young, like he must have been when he and his father were at Hogwarts. On the other hand, Harry could have strangled him with his bare hands right then.

"Well...we, uh... She's..." He glanced at Ron, desperate. "She's...tall, and...very funny..."

Sirius was looking at him with eager eyes, nodding enthusiastically.

"And uh...she's in Hufflepuff."

Sirius raised his eyebrows, seemingly a bit disappointed by that detail. In his high-school days, Hufflepuffs had been famous for their un-daringness. Of course, he had never bothered to check if it was true, but still. What was the point of having the Marauder's Map if it wasn't to put it to good use?!

"She's got red...no, blond hair!" Harry said, wincing. "And she's tall, and she's...got quite a temper..." He grinned, he couldn't help it, and glanced at Ron again. Yeah, quite a temper.

"And she's tall..." Sirius said with a small laugh, egging Harry on.

"Yeah, tall." Harry coughed. "And we met...on the Quidditch pitch!"

That wasn't what Sirius wanted to hear, so he cut Harry off, grinning. "Cut to the chase, Harry. Does she have one of those really cute birthmarks right on her--"

"She hasn't got a birthmark!!" Harry interrupted, blushing again. Or had he? "At least I don't think she has..." He tried to act casual and ate a mini-sausage, but almost chocked on it when his brain listed the possible places where Ron could have a birth-mark. There weren't many places left that Harry hadn't already seen.

Sirius almost laughed, then said, faking boredom, "Harry, please, keep your mind off the gutter." He smirked at his very annoyed godson, then said: "I hate to pull all the wise-godfather thing, Harry, but...how far have you gone with her? I mean...not that it's my business...Um...I just want you to be...safe...er...dammit, James," he suddenly said to the sky, looking furious, "you knew Remus would have been better at this than me!"

Harry looked at his godfather like he was a maniac, then he understood what he was talking about and smiled. Still, some things had to be said. "You were the one to talk about birthmark!" he therefore accused, looking offended. Then the rest of Sirius' sentence came back to him and he felt himself blushing yet again. When had he started blushing that much anyway?! "And we...we haven't gone...too far. But...I guess, I guess a bit far still...I mean, I don't know how far is far, really."

Ah. Now they were talking. Sirius coughed, feeling slightly uncomfortable all of a sudden. He had asked the question, sure, but in all honesty, he hadn't expected Harry to go along with it...didn't kids just kiss anymore, and all those deliciously naïve things, like hold hands under the table, or slip notes in each others' robes, or play footsie during lunch? "Were your clothes on all the time?" he finally asked, dreading the answer.

Harry opened his mouth, about to say they had kept their pyjamas on, then realized what it would (rightly) imply, and opted for general vagueness. "Uh...well, not all of them..." He suddenly understood the immense importance of knowing how to Disapparate. Oh, how much he wished he could do it right then.

"All of the clothes, or all the time?" Sirius prodded, almost scrunching his face up with anxiety.

Sirius' feet were looking very interesting all of a sudden, and Harry studied them intently, muttering "Both," and hoping Sirius wouldn't make him repeat it.

There was a silence, then since no sound was coming, Harry continued, not looking up. "We kinda..." He was going to say "this morning", but once again caught himself on time. "...there was this time where we kinda..."

"Go on," Sirius said encouragingly, feeling a bit guilty at seeing Harry so flustered. "I'm sure I've...done it before, too. You know, I was a teenager once." Except I didn't once look at girls and think they were anything near sexy, he thought to himself, reminded that the only thing he'd ever done was with Remus and that boy in Slytherin, and wondering once again how he had gotten in this mess. Damn James, damn Molly, and damn Remus, too, for being so shaggable and therefore somewhat responsible for his current uneasiness.

"Well...we just had our pants on..." He realized too late that the removal of a shirt was a much bigger deal when it concerned girls, and grimaced helplessly.

"Oh."

"Actually," Harry corrected, blushing crimson, "We kinda got the pants off, too..."

"Oh."

"But we had our boxers on!! Uh, well, my boxers and her...panties." Harry hid his eyes with his hand, wishing he had never ever agreed to talk about that.

Sirius gave his godson a sympathising look. "Well, as long as you had them on..."

"Yeah." Harry coughed. "But, see, it's...it was all going on quite fast, and...and so, I don't..."

"It's okay, Harry. We all get a bit flustered about these things. Trust me."

"It was all very good," Harry continued, glancing at Ron again and willing his body to stay calm. "But..."

"Yes?"

"But I'm not sure I...well, you know, how fast is it supposed to go, exactly?"

"That all depends on you, Harry," Sirius said. He was actually starting to enjoy his role; it wasn't everyday that people trusted him enough to ask him for important advice (some weird grudge about him being a chief prankster in school and delighting in people's misfortunes. All nonsense, if you asked him). As long as Harry didn't ask...anatomical-ish specifics. "I know, I know, I'm most likely supposed to be saying things like Wait until marriage and Be sure you've figured yourself out first, and maybe even then, Don't, but..." He took a deep breath and smiled down at Harry. "I don't think I'd be living up to James if I said any of that."

Harry looked up from Sirius' shoes and grinned. "So, uh, so it's okay if...But see, what if I don't...like, don't feel like doing more? Y'know, like...uh...touching her...down..." Harry coughed, then winced again.

"Harry, just say so," Sirius said with fervour, very nearly adding that such a traumatism could easily be avoided.

"I mean," Harry continued, as if Sirius hadn't talked. "Does it mean there's something wrong with me? Not wanting to..."

"No, of course not," Sirius interrupted, thinking that the wrongness was rather in wanting to touch a girl down there. Despite James' enthusiasm in telling him all about his and Lily's sex life in Hogwarts, Sirius had never understood the interest of it all. "You're young. Honestly, the first time I ever did any of that, I was older than you are now."

Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

"I know, Sirius the player...not what you expected, uh?"

"Oh." Harry pondered it for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and said: "But see...it's, well, she's quite...uh, passionate, and..."

"Believe it or not, I know what that's like, too. Re...becca, my first girlfriend, was the same way," Sirius said, his lips stretching up once more. Moony didn't only manifest itself during full moons, as Sirius had very soon found out. "...have you talked to her? Penny, I mean."

"Uh, no. I mean...not about that. But I like doing things to hi--her. It's just that...I'm not sure I even know what to do, really. I mean, you know, with..."

Both of them winced, but they didn't notice it.

"...you know." Harry closed his eyes and sighed loudly, wondering why, oh why, he had asked that question. Even if Sirius answered, which somehow didn't seem likely, it wouldn't help Harry at all. He reckoned he should have talked about how to best pleasure himself instead, but it would probably have turned out even more humiliating a conversation.

"Er...well..." Sirius said, feeling flustered and slightly nauseous. That was exactly why he had never been interested in girls. "You see, Harry, when a man and a...woman...love each other very much...no, that's not right. Sometimes, Harry, hormones can cause people to act...well, you know how people can act."

"No, I didn't mean...I didn't mean that!" Harry interrupted, his cheeks flaring up. "I meant...you know, just...before that."

Sirius was about to ask Harry what he meant exactly, when Ron appeared almost out of nowhere, grinning. "Hi there!" he said, looking at Harry and Sirius in turn, eyebrows raised in wonder. "What are you talking about?"

"Hey Ron!" Sirius said, grinning back. "Enjoying the party? I must say we're all pretty proud of you."

"Thanks." Ron looked positively delighted. He had been complimented all night, which he wasn't used to, far from it. He could almost, almost, understand why Hermione loved being a top student so much.

"So what's new?"

"Apart from the badge?" Ron asked, beaming. "Nothing. ...so what were you talking about?" Harry was avoiding his gaze with a stubbornness that made Ron feel faintly paranoiac.

"Oh, Harry was just asking me for some advice," Sirius said, gesturing at Harry, who right then looked like he was trying to dig a whole in the ground with the sole power of his eyes.

"About what?" Ron asked lightly.

"Oh well, I'm sure you know all about Harry's new love interest, so I'll spare you all the gory details."

"What??" Ron exclaimed, spinning to stare at Harry.

Sirius smirked despite himself. The best friend not knowing about the girlfriend. Classic. He and Remus had hidden their relationship from James and Peter for some time at first, because they wanted to keep themselves to themselves (and hiding was so sexy, Sirius would always point out). When James had finally learned it, and very unfortunately from somebody else, he had reacted...well, badly. Poor Ron must have--

"You told him?!"

...that wasn't exactly the question Sirius had expected.

Harry blushed crimson, carefully avoiding looking at Ron. "Yeah, well, he pretty much forced me," he mumbled, hoping against all odds that Ron would be clever enough to make out that Sirius didn't know he was Harry's "new love interest."

"So what do you think about Penny, Ron?" Sirius asked, recovering from his slight shock. Maybe Ron didn't like her, or maybe she was slutty...Sirius shuddered at the thought. Or maybe--"She's not stealing your best friend away, is she?"

"Penny?"

Harry glanced up at Ron, just long enough to glare at him warningly. "Yeah, you know, Penny."

Ron looked at Harry's profile for a second or two, then hesitantly said: "...oh, oh yeah, that Ravenclaw chick."

"Ravenclaw?...I thought--"

"Hufflepuff, yeah!" Harry almost shouted, once again sending a quick glare in Ron's direction. "He always mistakes her with her...twin sister!" he said. Fred and George were sneaking up behind Moody, obviously trying to see how close they could get before his magical eye turned on them. Harry knew that Moody had most certainly spotted them right from the start, but seemed in an amiable mood and didn't budge.

When Sirius turned his eyes back at Ron, the boy was grinning. "And so what advice was he asking you?" he asked, eager.

"Oh, basic stuff," Sirius said, shrugging. He guessed his older brothers had filled Ron in on the pains of adolescence a long time ago. "You know, how far is too far, basic foreplay, that kind of stuff."

Ron's mouth fell slightly open in shock, and his face turned an interesting weird mix between a grin, a blush and a gape. "Oh."

"It's really nothing..." Harry mumbled, trying to push Ron away. It would have been hard enough if Ron had only been his best friend, but now? Harry pretty much wished he was dead.

"Are you two feeling okay?" Sirius asked, going from one blushing teenager to the other. Things were looking weirder and weirder. Was Ron interested in that girl as well? But he would know in which House she was, if such was the case. Sirius scratched his head, wishing Remus was having this conversation, and not him. "...what's going on?"

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, much too loud once again. Then he seemed to realize that it wasn't the right answer, and flinched.

Sirius squinted at them, trying not to smile. They were both looking so awkward, it was getting fun. He turned to refill his glass of punch, his lips twitching at the corners.

"I just..." Harry said, then suddenly glared up at his godfather again, hit by inspiration. "What would you feel if we talked about your sex life in front of Remus?!"

Sirius, choked on his punch, spraying Harry and Ron, who grimaced. "Sorry," he said between two coughs, also trying to stop the laugh that was climbing in his throat.

"You see??" Harry snarled, triumphant. Then he tried to step on Ron's foot, to make him go away, but Ron dodged him.

The coughs subsided but Sirius' eyes lit up as he carefully answered, trying not to grin, "Yes...yes, I see what you mean."

"But still..." Ron said two seconds later, fidgeting next to Harry. "What...uh, what did you tell him?"

"Ron!!" Harry exclaimed, looking very pale.

"I told him what every good godfather would tell his godson. Go in for the kill," Sirius replied calmly.

Ron had been beginning to say to an almost homicidal Harry, "No, no, but I want to know. I find this fascin--" when he registered Sirius' words and gulped soundly. "You did?" he asked, his voice wavering between deep and squeaky.

"Sweep her right off her feet into the bedroom..." Sirius continued, nodding. Then he grinned and said, "Of course not, Ron." He sighed, shaking his head.

Ron looked downright confused now. "You didn't?" he asked, upon which Sirius shook his head some more. But Ron turned to Harry, asking again, "He didn't?"

Harry didn't say anything, looking torn between strangling his best friend and running away.

"Maybe you should go lay down Ron," Sirius said after a few more seconds of frantic "Did he?". "You're looking kind of...queasy." Maybe Ron had views on Penny, after all. Or maybe he... Sirius grinned to himself. No, that would be too fun. Not everybody's gay, you know, said Remus little voice in his head, making him grin more.

"But what did you say?!" Ron insisted again, before realizing what he was doing and mumbling, avoiding Sirius' amused gaze and Harry's murderous glare, "Oh, there's Bill. I haven't talked to him yet." Ron scampered away, and Harry let out a long sigh, shaking his head.

"Thanks a lot, Sirius," he hissed, pouting.

"What?"

"I didn't need you to tell Ron all that!! Now next time we..." His next word got squashed somewhere along the way and he coughed, his cheeks flaring up more, and not from anger this time. "He'll..." He coughed again. "He'll never stop teasing me with that!"

Sirius chuckled, unrepentant, and Harry suddenly caught sight of Remus, who was sneaking up behind his godfather.

Remus, who was far too busy ogling Sirius' assets to pay attention to Harry, almost slid his arm around Sirius' waist, ready to steal a kiss from his outrageously sexy lover. Then Harry's eyes attracted his own and he gulped down, quickly raising his arm to wrap it around Sirius' shoulders instead.

"Great, bring more people into the conversation..." Harry said, glaring at Sirius some more.

Sirius turned to see who it was and beamed at Remus, looking both amused and relieved.

"Sirius, old boy! Ol' buddy, ol' pal!" Remus exclaimed, sounding not much like himself, his grin slightly forced. Harry looked at him funny, then went back to glaring. Remus raised his eyebrows and glanced at Sirius, who made a face. It seemed they both needed to be rescued. "Hey, Sirius," Remus said loudly, "Tonks was just telling me that she had pictures of you when you were little running around Grimmauld starkers."

It lightened the mood efficiently. Harry burst out laughing, staring at Sirius' clenched jaw and hardening glare. After a few seconds, he was laughing so hard he almost fell on his butt on the grass, gasping for breath. This was the sweetest payback he could have hoped for, and he only hoped that the pictures really existed, else it wouldn't be as mortifying for Sirius. However, from the way Sirius was flexing his fingers near Remus' throat, Tonks' accusations were perfectly founded.

"So what do you say, Harry," Remus said, ignoring Sirius' silent threat. "How about your favourite teacher and you go mock ickle Sirius?"

Harry grinned in quite a vicious way, still staring at his godfather. "Definitely."

"And let me tell you...was he ever ickle!" Remus added, grinning from ear to ear. He hopped away from Sirius' tackling hands, laughing soundly.

Harry looked at the both of them for a second or two, puzzled, before turning away and almost running to go see Tonks. He had never seen his ex-teacher be mischievous, or laugh so openly and loudly; it was nice, if a little surprising. He couldn't help but feel that somehow it was linked to Sirius' presence at the party, and grinned. He hoped that he would still be best friends with Ron when he was their age, no matter what ordeals might lay on their way to adulthood.

Remus turned to Sirius with a wicked smile, the corner of his eyes crinkling with laughter. Sirius growled lowly at him, before leaning down and whispering in his ear, "No sex for you. Ever again."

Remus burst out laughing again, trying to nod thoughtfully. Then as Sirius growled once more, looking ready to pounce on him (and they both knew how that kind of pounce always ended), he said: "It was worth it."

Sirius was about to steal a quick kiss from his lover when Harry's voice made them sprang apart from each other. They turned to see him trotting towards them, looking embarrassed. He stopped in front of Sirius and looked up at his godfather, nibbling on the inside of his bottom lip. He glanced at Remus, who immediately walked away, pretending to be interested in the clouds.

"So, uh..." Harry started, looking back at Sirius, who was eyeing Remus with ill-disguised hunger. He shook himself out of it and looked at Harry, smiling benevolently. "D'you think I should go with it or not?"

Sirius took a second to place their conversation back in the right order, and nodded softly. "Do whatever your heart tells you to do, and you'll be okay. You can listen to your hormones, too, but they tend to be less picky about their partner..."

Harry grinned, his cheeks heating up again, but with happiness this time, and headed back toward Tonks. He vaguely heard Remus asking to Sirius "What was that about?!", and smiled to himself, glad not to be around any longer. He only hoped he could avoid Ron for the rest of the evening...vengeance was best served cold, after all.

*~*~*

Harry had barely stepped into Ron's room when the door slammed behind him. He turned round, startled, and suddenly he was being kissed thoroughly and pushed backwards, manoeuvred blindly by a feverish Ron. There were hands in his hair, and hands at his waist, and hands on his back, and the only thing Harry could do, really, was to open his mouth to let Ron kiss him deeper, trying his hardest not to forget to breathe with his nose.

Harry's knees finally collided with the side of Ron's bed and he fell backwards; he scrunched up his face, persuaded that his head was just about to collide awfully with the wall or the wooden foot of the bed, but instead he softly came into contact with Ron's pillow. He didn't have time to rejoice and marvel about this though, because Ron's body came crashing down onto him.

"Urgh..." Harry moaned, "Careful with the stomach..."

Ron chuckled, then started nibbling his way along Harry's jaw, his fingers sliding along his neck and the little bit of skin not covered by his shirt.

"I'm surprised you don't have a stomach-ache, seeing how much and how fast you ate!" Harry said, sighing under Ron's ministrations. He shifted under Ron and slid a thigh between his legs, his flesh pressing just the right way against Ron's middle.

Ron stifled a moan against Harry's neck. "I didn't eat that much."

"I saw you, Ron," Harry said, smirking. He slid his hands to Ron's waist, un-tucking his shirt.

"And what about you?" Ron asked, licking Harry's collar bone and trying to stretch the material further away. "I'd thought that discussion with Sirius would have made you feel sick, but apparently--"

"It didn't make me sick," Harry countered. He sighed, bending his leg up between Ron's, his fingers finally making contact with the soft skin of Ron's sides. "It made me feel like killing everyone." He nudged Ron with his shoulder and Ron leaned up, then back down to kiss Harry's welcoming mouth.

"Then why did you ask him all that in the first place?" Ron asked after a very sloppy kiss, licking his lips.

"I didn't!" Harry exclaimed, his hands creeping up Ron's back, taking the shirt up with them. "He came to me and started asking me all those questions about why I was always in my room and stuff..." Harry moaned when Ron licked his jaw, ending his travel by gently nipping at Harry's earlobe.

"How would he know that?" Ron asked, voice muffled against Harry's hair.

"Your mom talked to him, apparently," Harry said reprovingly, his hands travelling under to Ron's chest, fingers deftly tracing his flat breasts.

"Shit," Ron said, looking down at Harry. "Do you think she suspects something?"

"Dunno. Sirius thought I was with Ginny," he said, grinning when Ron gaped. "So I guess she doesn't, else she'd have told him, right?"

"I guess," Ron said, before kissing the tip of Harry's nose, then drifting lower to Harry's swollen lips. Harry hummed contently against Ron's mouth, his fingers now trying to slip underneath the waistband of Ron's trousers.

"Had a good evening?" he asked, a little breathless.

Ron grinned. "Very good," he said, nodding. "Although," he added, before kissing Harry again, "I'm very glad Percy wasn't there...I sure didn't want to have to share my room...with anyone tonight..." he mumbled happily between two deep kisses, all the while winding velvety strands of Harry's hair around his fingers.

"Speaking about that, we should probably get ready for bed," Harry feebly said once Ron's lips weren't on his anymore. "It's quite late..."

"You're right..." Ron murmured, but he didn't move. Instead he launched his mouth onto Harry's once more, fidgeting with the buttons of Harry's shirt.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked between two kisses, feeling his heart beating just a little bit faster.

"I'm helping you remove your clothes, why?" Ron replied very calmly. His hands were trembling, but Harry was far too nervous to notice that. "Just a few little buttons, really..."

They didn't know why "just a few little buttons, really..." felt so much different than it had just one day before, but it did. And when all the buttons were off and Ron slid his hands under Harry's back, and Harry leaned up so that Ron could slid the shirt off his shoulders, Harry thought for a few seconds that he couldn't breathe anymore.

Harry leaned back against the mattress and for a few seconds neither said anything, Ron's eyes and fingers lightly caressing Harry's uncovered chest, feather-like but steadfast. Then Ron bent down and, after the slightest hesitation, took one lick at Harry's left nipple. Harry gasped without a sound and his breathing hitched; he very almost gripped Ron's shoulder to force him to do that again, but Ron was kissing him before he had had time to.

"Take my shirt off," Ron whispered against Harry's cheek, his voice insecure but husky. "...please?" he added in a murmur, as if he was afraid he had been too straightforward, and Harry almost smiled but kissed him instead, his hands going down to fumble with Ron's buttons.

But the button-holes were stubbornly small and Harry couldn't see what he was doing, so he firmly pushed Ron away from him, making him lie on his back and straddling his thighs.

"That's better," he whispered, immediately going back to the buttons. Then he remembered, hazily, something he had done the day before and he stopped at the third button down, then smiled softly at Ron.

Ron whose mouth was already opened to protest when Harry's lips landed on it, sweet but claiming.

Harry didn't linger long, though, tracing a broken path from Ron's jaw to the spoon-like gap of his neck, his tongue quickly licking it. His fingers deftly undid the fourth button so he could push the fabric aside, just enough to sprinkle hot kisses from one clothed nipple to the other. Ron sighed shakily, his middle pressing demandingly against Harry's waist, then his soft belly as Harry scooted down, the fifth and sixth button lightly taken care of.

Every touch of Harry's lips down Ron's middle was somehow filtering through Ron's body, to end up at the exact same place on his spine, sending soft chills over and over down to his toes and up to his brain, and when he tried to grab Harry's shoulders and Harry swatted his hands away he gripped the mattress instead, feeling his hips starting to buck up all by themselves against Harry's chest.

"Harry..." he heard himself beg in a wheezy moan right after the two last buttons had disappeared, not sure if he was begging Harry to do more or to stop and kiss him again. Either way, he would probably lose his head from sheer teasing pleasure. Especially now that Harry's fingers were skimming along his waist, playing with his belt.

Harry didn't say anything in return, his tongue too occupied exploring Ron's navel, slithering past the tender knot to press down on its hidden wall of skin, and getting a reaction much stronger than he had expected.

Ron's hands let go of the mattress and flew to Harry's hair, gripping them almost painfully and slightly scaring its owner. But then, Ron's hands obviously had no idea about what they wanted to do (Push him lower? Press him down? Yank him up?) and his grip lessened, followed by a louder moan, tinged with aroused helplessness.

Harry crawled back up, carefully lying on top of Ron's chest, their lips one inch apart, breaths mingling. They looked at each other for a few seconds, eyes wide and wet, then Harry's lips explored Ron's face and Ron's eyes fell closed, his hips starting a slow rhythm, soon followed by Harry's. Ron's fingers spread over Harry's shoulders as the rhythm increased both in rapidity and strength, Harry's thighs clenching around his hips.

"P...pants..." Harry whispered against Ron's cheek. "...hurts..." he hissed one second later, before forcing himself to straighten up, his hands shooting down to take care of the belt on Ron's pants just as Ron's hands shot down to take care of Harry's. Their hands bumped together and no matter how hard they tried they couldn't manage to do the same thing as the same time. They chuckled and finally agreed to take care of their own clothes; Harry sit down next to Ron and almost ripped his pants (and socks) away from his legs, before straddling Ron once again, immediately going back to the same rhythm, Ron's hands gripping his hips and directing his moves.

They still had their boxers on, but it didn't feel like much at all against so much friction and wetness, and Ron could only gasp again and again, Harry's figure looming over him as he sat completely up, bringing more pressure down where it mattered. Harry's eyes slowly fell shut and he let his head dangle backwards, his back arching along with it.

Ron felt both entranced and delirious, his eyes fixed on Harry's torso, his hands slithering up to caress the smooth skin. Harry hummed low in his throat and Ron felt shivers descending along his arms to spread under his chest, closing his eyes for a small second, because it all felt so good it was almost painful. Scratch that, it was painful.

"You know this afternoon I wanted to push you on the grass and lick the sweat off your body..." he heard himself whisper between gasps, his hands trembling against Harry's skin.

Harry didn't seem to have even heard him, but Ron was rather glad about it, for once. He grabbed Harry's arms and pulled him down, feeling the almost desperate need to kiss him. Harry's lips moved back against his own, hot and wet and hungry, but when Ron released him and looked up into his face, he was met with stern features and absent eyes, as if all of Harry's concentration was focused on the movements of his body, and didn't let any room for Ron.

Watching Harry right then was...arousing, amazing and annoying all at the same time. Ron had never seen his friend this way, and he was actually pretty sure that Harry had never been this way before, even through private endeavours. He looked older, and stronger, so much different from the crying boy Ron had comforted the previous night. For the first time, Ron realized that the Harry he had met in his first trip to Hogwarts, trying to hide his scar with his fringe and awkward as hell, that this boy was now fifteen, and that it showed. Having spent so much time with Harry, and having grown into his body faster than Harry did, Ron had never noticed any change, even after the long months of summer break. It was...imposing, and also a little intimidating and ill-timed, to realize it right now, while they were doing something so intimate and so not friendly. Like Ron was suddenly in bed with a whole new person, a person he hadn't gotten time to really meet yet. The way Harry's eyes were directed to the right of Ron's head, unfocusingly watching Ron's pillow instead of his face, as if Harry was doing nothing more than hump a mattress or a doll, wasn't helping to rationalize Ron's thoughts.

But then, just as Ron's body warmed up a few degrees further in a quick flash of boiling blood, Harry gripped his hand, which was lying beside Ron's ear, palm upwards, and intertwined their fingers together. Ron's eyes flashed open and were greeted with bright emerald, so close it almost scared him, alive and intense and definitely seeing him. And he would blush about it later on but just like that, orgasm swept through him with a strength he had been far from expecting, making him grip Harry's hand so hard Harry would have winced, if his own body wasn't falling above the edge at that precise moment.

Time almost stopped, seconds stretching into tiny eternities, Harry's body hovering over Ron's as if under water. Then the thread was broken and Harry fell heavily onto Ron's chest, his mouth opened to take in great gulps of air, hands still clasped together.

Minutes passed smoothly by, the room suddenly filled by the singing noise coming from the garden, bribes of discussions and the sudden explosions of laughter. Most of the party was still there, it wasn't midnight yet, and every one of them knew that with the dire times looming ahead of them, every occasion to feel carefree should be grasped and enjoyed.

To Ron, the noises were like an old lullaby, bringing back memories of his childhood; back then, people often dropped by to visit during summer, and Ron would lie in his dark room, pouting because he wanted to stay up longer, listening to the drifting sounds of grown-ups having a good time. To Harry, they felt both soothing and foreign. The Dursley's never held parties, especially not garden-parties; he would have thought they would like to display their wealth to the whole street, but apparently their dislike of their neighbours was stronger than their need to brag. And even if they had held such parties, Harry knew it would never have been so nice, and so fun. He closed his eyes and smiled, thinking faintly that it was probably one of the best evenings he had ever had, minus his Sirius-humiliation. And even that had been fun, in retrospective. Even though it had been utterly useless, of course.

Eventually, Ron gently pushed Harry off of him, cutting Harry's oncoming question with his lips. "Underwear," he murmured, then very slowly got off the bed, wishing more than ever that he could use his wand during summer.

Harry sighed and looked at Ron as he was searching for their pyjamas and for clean boxers, wanting to help him but feeling too lazy to do so. There was something greatly enjoyable about looking at somebody working (if this could be called work) while one did nothing, Harry thought, grinning. Ron came back to the bed, and upon seeing Harry's grin, threw his pyjamas straight in Harry's face, laughing.

"Very funny," the pyjamas said with a muffled voice, before Harry's hands yanked them away.

"I think so too," Ron replied, chuckling.

Both boys changed clothes without a word, both still too shy to look at each other's naked bodies, even though their eyes were very much tempted to take a peek. Then Ron lied back down, their positions reversed, and night fell upon them again, the chipping of night birds, the tender hissing of the summer wind, the barking laugh of Sirius and the tinkle of Molly's chuckles.

"...I still can't believe how much you ate," Harry finally said with a laugh, stroking Ron's slightly sweaty hair.

"I didn't eat that much!" Ron protested against Harry's chest, with a vehemence that surprised even himself, seeing how exhausted he felt just then.

"Yeah, right!"

"Well I'm a growing boy!" Ron exclaimed, then they both laughed breathily. Feeling Harry's stomach heaving up and down below him was a strange experience, but not half as strange as hearing his laugh behind his ribcage, sounding bigger and louder. "Plus, you know, maybe you haven't noticed since we have access to the kitchens and all, but it is hard getting food at Hogwarts! I have to make up for it during the summer, that's all."

Harry waited one second, then as no giggle was coming, asked: "You're kidding me, right?"

"No!" Ron said vehemently, his cheek still pressed against Harry's skin. "You think there's plenty to eat, but then one moment of distraction and the top years have taken all the good stuff away! Do you know that some first years actually starve some nights? They don't say it, oh no, they're too scared, but it happens!" Ron said with the tone of somebody unearthing a shameful scoop, threatening the high instances.

Harry giggled, then lightly swatted Ron's back, shaking his head. "And how would you know about all that? I've never seen you talking with first years, apart of course when you were one!"

"Well, exactly! You know, Harry, a long time ago, in first year," Ron started saying with a lecture-voice; then he added as a side-thought, "back then I didn't know you--"

Harry laughed: "Oh yeah? And when was that, exactly, that you didn't know me?"

"Okay well let's change that then. Well, you know, a long time ago," Ron started again, unfazed, "in first year - when I wasn't head over heels in love with you - there were some times where I starved!! Usually it w..."

But Harry didn't hear the rest of Ron's (no doubt) thrilling story. He felt his heart start to beat faster, and less rhythmically, and his cheeks heating up. Calm down, he told himself firmly. He was just joking!! But his body wouldn't listen to him. It was so silly, he knew it was silly, that it didn't mean a thing, and he didn't even want it to mean something (did he?), but...But still...

Ron finally sensed it and raised his head just enough to take a look at Harry's face, looking puzzled. "Are my torments having such an effect on you or is this something else?" he asked, smiling slightly.

Harry willed his cheeks to cool down, which of course was like asking Malfoy to be nice, and kept staring at the ceiling, trying to come up with a good retort. But since he hadn't heard Ron's story, he couldn't come up with anything. So he did the next best thing. He gripped Ron's shoulders, brought him to his level, and kissed him fiercely.

The good thing with Ron was, his brain usually crashed after kisses too intense, erasing all the latest data from his files. Harry tried to store this useful piece of information away for future use, but it turned out his own brain wasn't so spiffy after a good snog, either. Both boys looked at each other, elated smiled on their faces, then dived in for another kiss.

*~*~*

Harry closed his book with a grunting sigh, strongly tempted to send it to the other side of the living-room. He would probably have done it, too, if the book wasn't so annoyingly heavy.

Harry curled up on the comfortable (if battered) couch, wrapping his arms around his knees, and sighed once more. He couldn't sleep. Everything had been so perfect, with Ron's warm weight upon him, and the soft sound of his sleepy breathing, and Harry had felt comfortably dozy and closed his eyes...but sleep had never come. He had tossed and turned, receiving angry grunts from a sleeping Ron, he had tried to empty his brain, he had even thought about his homework, but nothing had worked. After more than one hour of sheer agony, he had finally sneaked out of bed and out of Ron's room, going down to read. But that hadn't worked either, his brain still too sleepy to concentrate on something for more than five minutes.

He got up from the couch and went to the kitchen, intent on making himself a glass of hot milk. He had heard once that it was good for sleep, because of some secretion in the milk that put the brain to sleep. He fumbled around for a pan, then for matches (he had a difficult time finding those; Molly always used her wand to make the fire start), and finally sat at the big table, glass of milk between his hands, warming them nicely.

Some sugar would be good...he thought, then got up and opened every cupboard, finally finding what he sought hidden behind the pastas. He poured a generous amount into his warm milk and gulped it all down in one go.

Then he waited.

Nothing happened.

After ten minutes of nervously tapping the empty glass with his fingernails and waiting for his brain to get fuzzy, Harry moaned and got up from his seat, dragging himself up the stairs back to Ron's room.

He opened the door and tiptoed back to Ron's bed, only to find Ron sprawled on it, on his back, taking all the space. He tried pushing Ron towards the wall but the boy stayed stubbornly right in the middle of the mattress, legs spread in a V and arms curled up around his pillow.

Harry smiled, then raised Ron's shirt a few inches and lightly tickled Ron's stomach. The result wasn't the one he had anticipated. Ron's hand flew up from under his pillow to grip Harry's wrist and Harry almost jumped when Ron's eyes shot open, so blue in the dark night.

"Harry!" Ron whispered, sounding both relieved and amused. "I was wondering where you had gone...I thought you might be in the bathroom so I waited, but you weren't coming back...I was about to go look for you when I heard you come back in," he added, almost shyly, before scooting away a bit.

Harry gave Ron a small smile before cuddling up beside him silently, shifting around and trying to find a good position. When he finally stopped, he had his head leaning on Ron's shoulder, one leg resting across Ron's waist, and his left hand fidgeting with the middle button of Ron's shirt.

"Comfortable now?" Ron asked, and Harry could almost hear him smirking.

Harry grumbled, and suddenly there was a hand caressing his hair and Ron's voice was turning caring. "Hey, is there something wrong?"

"Can't sleep," Harry said, before nuzzling his head closer to Ron's warm neck. "I thought I'd go downstairs and read a bit, y'know, but turns out I'm not feeling like reading. And staring into space isn't doing anything for me, either." He sighed, a long miffed sigh, and kissed Ron's neck to keep himself occupied.

Ron's hand slid down to the nape of Harry's neck, massaging the tense flesh. "Why can't you sleep?"

"Dunno." Harry was tempted to tell Ron his question was the stupidest he had ever heard, but he had the dim feeling that he would regret saying this at one point or another. He left Ron's body and lied on his back as much he could, pouting.

"I'm a bit vexed, y'know," Ron said lightly after Harry had grumpily shifted position yet again, turning his back on his friend. "After what we did earlier on, I thought you'd be a bit more tired..."

He heard Harry chuckling and felt him turning back to face him, then there were warm lips coming out of nowhere to kiss his mouth. "Yes, aren't I the little ungrateful prat?" Harry whispered humorously against Ron's lips, his fingers skimming Ron's jaw. Then he added, sounding mockingly serious: "I blame my brain for this, you know."

"I blame it too."

*~*~*

Harry woke up with no clue that he had been sleeping at all, even though several hours had passed. The fact that he was sleepily kissing Ron, though, with no memory of starting the kiss in the first place, was suggesting he might have dozed off at one point or another. Harry half-opened his eyes, his lips lazily moving against Ron's equally lazy ones, and after a few seconds he got the distinct feeling that Ron was indeed sleeping. The knowledge that they could kiss while sleeping made Harry's body tingle with warmth, and he closed his eyes again, pressing his lips more firmly against Ron's ones.

The room was suddenly illuminated in a bright white flash and Harry flinched, instinctively pressing closer to Ron, who grumbled and shifted, wrapping an arm around Harry's back.

Ron waited, eyes still closed, unconsciously counting the seconds to see how far the storm was. He had reached the grand number of sixteen when the low rumbling sound was finally heard, which meant they needn't be worried to ever have that storm over their heads. Harry tensed again when the thunder was heard, and Ron bit back a wondering chuckle. "Harry, are you scared?"

"No," came the muffled response, but then there was another flash of lightning and Harry tried to crawl under Ron's body, curling up in a very small ball.

This time Ron did chuckle. "Are you scared of storms?" he asked softly, trying not to upset his best friend.

Harry's head unburied from under Ron's face; he looked very haughty. "Of course I'm not!"

Rumble.

Harry flinched and gripped Ron's shirt, and Ron chuckled again. Harry pouted. "Okay, maybe I am. Just a little."

"How come?"

Harry looked really upset now. "How come you're scared of spiders?" he countered.

Ron frowned. "Spiders are ugly and hairy and crawly. Nothing to do with a good old storm."

"Spiders don't make noises like they're going to tear down your house," Harry snapped back.

"Storms rarely tear down houses, Harry."

"But they can."

"Spiders can kill, too. And they're small so you don't see them coming."

"Apart from--"

"Accromantulas," Ron finished in time with Harry. Both boys smiled, then Harry said:

"When I was little, whenever there was a storm I usually was into the cupboard, so I never actually saw it until I got Dudley's second bedroom. And in the cupboard, the thunder sounded distant and almost soothing. But in Dudley's bedroom I swear sometimes it felt like I was going to get struck by lightening in my bed."

Ron smiled, then reflected, "I never saw you being scared at Hogwarts."

"Well, I wasn't going to share that with the dorm, was I?" Harry spat back, but he was smiling too.

Their little match had taken Harry's mind away from the distant storm, but just then the room was illuminated again and Harry pressed down into the mattress, sneakily pulling the sheet up to his ears. He felt utterly stupid, but he just hated the damn thing. It was violent, and harsh, and sometimes, sometimes, the quick flash of lightening reminded him a bit of another light, a green light. He wasn't putting his fear of storms on his parents' death, it would have been a bit foolish, but he didn't like them nonetheless.

He felt something trying to tug the sheet down, but fought back. Then he heard Ron chuckling very close to his face, and peered up, lowering his hands just a bit. And then Ron was kissing him and Harry let go of the sheet.

"Mate, the storm is far away from here!" Ron softly assured him, caressing the soft hair on the side of Harry's ear.

"How do you know that?" Harry asked defensively.

Ron smiled. "Didn't you..." he started, then deftly turned his sentence around. He couldn't believe he had once again been about to ask Harry if his parents hadn't taught him this or that. "...hear the classic trick for storms? You count the seconds between the light and the sound. I...actually don't remember at all how many miles correspond to one second, but I can tell you, when there's 16 seconds between the two, like tonight, it means the storm is probably on the other side of England!"

Harry looked at Ron quizzically for a few seconds, as if testing him, then smiled. "Really?"

"Yup."

There was another rumble, louder this time, and Harry curled up a bit more. "Sure?"

Ron laughed and kissed Harry softly on the lips. "You know what? I'm very, very happy that you're afraid of storms," he said, grinning.

"And why's that?"

"Coz you're never afraid of anything! Now at least I'm not the only one feeling stupid!"

Ron laughed and Harry tried to growl at him, but it sounded like a puppy growl and Ron laughed harder; so Harry resolved to the other option, which was pounce on his friend.

"Why can't we just kiss anymore?" Harry asked huskily ten minutes later, after very little fighting and quite a good deal of groping.

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, y'know...now everything turns so..."

"Hot?" Ron asked, a sexy smile stretching his lips.

Harry bit his lip, smiling. "Yup."

"Dunno. Why, d'you wish it didn't?"

Harry decided he wouldn't even answer to that question: no, instead he would make Ron forget how to tease him. Just...like...

"Oh Merlin..."

...that.