Power of Love

CHAPTER 1 - A SURPRISING DISCOVERY

Ron Weasley awoke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed. He wasn't sure if he'd heard something or if he had been dreaming. He stuck his head out from the curtains of his four-poster and he looked at his clock: 4:30 a.m. Bloody hell - as awake as he was now, he was sure he'd never get back to sleep. And it was Saturday, too. Out of habit, he listened for Harry's breathing. Silence. His instinct told him to investigate. Slipping silently out of his bed, Ron peered into Harry's empty one where the blankets were pulled back. Ron ran his hand over the smooth cold sheets; they had not been slept in for several hours. Ron remembered hearing Harry thrashing about in his sleep until all hours of the night, and he knew Harry had been preoccupied about something. He supposed Harry had been unable to sleep and had gone out for a midnight stroll. Ron crept over to Harry's trunk and reached deep into the corner, blindly searching for the silky smooth fabric that usually rested there. Sure enough, the Invisibility Cloak was missing.

Quietly crossing the dark room, his bare feet ice cold from the stone floor, Ron stole down the staircase to the common room. There was no sign of Harry. "Harry," he called in a loud whisper, "are you in here?" There was no answer. Ron started to get worried. Harry had disappeared in the middle of the night a few times this year, but he'd told Ron he had never been gone longer than an hour, and he had certainly never failed to return to his bed before the others woke up. Ron climbed the stairs back up to the dormitory and looked out the window as he passed it. The light of the full moon reflected off a heavy frost blanketing the ground, which was not uncommon for November. He was about to return to his bed when he noticed footprints in the frost leading toward the lake.

Ron debated with himself for a few minutes, trying to decide whether or not to go after Harry. He was sure the footprints were Harry's - no other marks could be seen in the frost, and there was not a second set returning to the castle. Harry probably just wanted to be alone. But Ron was wide awake now, and he figured Harry had been alone long enough that he might like some company. Besides, what if something had happened to him? Ron dressed silently and headed downstairs again, carrying his shoes and grabbing his wand and a heavy cloak on the way. He put on his shoes in the common room, wrapped the cloak around himself and headed through the portrait hole. Though now in his seventh year, Ron had never before walked through the castle at this hour of the day. Except for a quick glimpse of some house-elves, he saw no one and slipped out of the castle quite unseen.

The rush of the cold November wind took his breath away as he headed toward the lake. He wondered how Harry could stand being out here in the cold for more than a few minutes. Ron quickly found the set of footprints he'd seen from the dormitory and began to follow them. He started jogging to keep warm, and soon discovered that the footprints led to the walking path around the lake. Ron hoped Harry hadn't decided to walk all the way around, as that would mean at least half an hour before he'd be inside again.

Ron's foot caught on something as he rounded a bend in the path. He went flying face first onto the frosty grass. A loud stream of obscenities escaped from his mouth. Ron angrily got back to his feet, wiping the remnants of frost from his face and hair. As he examined his hands for injuries, he suddenly noticed that the footprints he'd been following had stopped. Returning to the spot where he tripped, he saw what was unmistakably Harry's hand laying on the footpath.

Ron quickly knelt down next to the hand and felt for the rest of Harry's body. He gasped as he removed the cloak from Harry's face. Harry was unconscious, glasses askew, and deathly white. Ron reached down to touch his face and was shocked to find that his pale skin was freezing to the touch. He found a pulse, but it was weak.

"Harry?" Ron said, shaking him gently. "Harry, can you hear me?" Harry didn't respond.

Ron was starting to panic now. He looked around to see where he was: easily half a mile from Hagrid's, and even further from the castle. Ron tried to pick up Harry, but he was dead weight.

"I'll never be able to carry you all the way back!" Ron moaned to Harry, who could not hear him. In desperation, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry. "Ennervate." Nothing happened. Well, at least it probably wasn't a hex that got him. He tried again. "Mobilicorpus." Harry's hand moved a bit, but nothing else did. He really hadn't expected that to work anyway, since they weren't to be studying it until after the Christmas holidays.

Ron quickly removed his cloak and wrapped it around Harry as best he could. He leaned down close to Harry's ear, resting his warm cheek against Harry's frosty one and whispered, "I'm going for help, Harry." Then he started running.

Ron pounded on Hagrid's front door with one hand while clutching the stitch in his side with his other. Inside he could hear Fang barking and footsteps moving slowly across the floor. "Hagrid, it's me, Ron!" he yelled, as loudly as he could.

Hagrid looked as if he'd been woken from a deep sleep, which, of course, he had been. His feet were bare, and his hair was a more tangled mess than usual. He seemed quite surprised to see Ron standing in his doorway, bent over double with no cloak on. With one great hand, he swiftly pulled Ron inside the hut.

"It's Harry! He's unconscious on the path by the lake, and I can't carry him! Hagrid, you have to help him, quick!"

"Lemme get my boots, hol' on," replied Hagrid, as he spun around to dress. Ron had barely caught his breath before Hagrid was ready.

Ron set out at a full run, Hagrid effortlessly keeping up with him by walking at a brisk pace. When they reached the place where Harry lay, Hagrid picked him up easily as though he were a rag doll and they headed back to his hut.

"Crikey, Ron, he's cold as ice!" Hagrid fretted as he settled Harry to a huge stuffed armchair by the fire. "Light the fire, would yeh? An' put the kettle on."

Ron lit a fire in the grate with his wand and moved the kettle over it. He anxiously looked over at Harry in the chair, where Hagrid was tucking a large quilt around him. Ron warmed his hands by the fire, then walked over to Harry and rested one palm on either side of his face. Harry flinched at his warm touch, but didn't wake. A minute or two passed, with Hagrid and Ron exchanging nervous glances, before Harry's eyes opened.

"Ron," he whispered, "I'm so cold."

"You must have been outside for hours, Harry. You're lucky I found you. Do you think you can drink some tea?"

Harry nodded, but when he tried to move his arm to take the mug, it was shaking so badly that Ron wouldn't give it to him. "Here, I'll hold it. You drink." Ron held the mug to Harry's mouth, but it was so hot against his frozen lips that it nearly scalded them.

"It's too hot. Wait a minute." Ron set the mug down and watched as Harry's shivers took control of his body. He looked like he was having an epileptic seizure.

"Blimey, this is no good," said Hagrid. "I'm going up to the castle teh get Madam Pomfrey. Ron, you stay here and see if you can get some tea into him." Hagrid turned on his heel and strode out the door.

Ron looked anxiously at Harry, wanting to help but feeling helpless. "I wish I could remember that spell of Hermione's that warms you up," he said glumly.

"Ron," Harry asked weakly, "what if you sat here under these blankets and shared some of your body heat with me?"

"Harry!" exclaimed Ron with a grin. "What kind of a boy do you think I am?" He lifted the covers and climbed into the huge chair next to Harry, who was still ice cold to the touch. Ron wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. "Is it okay if I do this? I mean, you really are freezing."

"Yes, please."

The two of them sat there silently, snuggling under the blankets in Hagrid's huge armchair for ten or fifteen minutes. Ron was moving his hand absentmindedly up and down Harry's arm to try to create more heat by friction. As he did this, half of his brain was thinking "this is nice," while the other half was reminding him "Harry is a boy." Harry seemed to be dozing, but his face was now blotchy red and sported a contented smile.

Ron started as the latch on the door opened and Hagrid entered with Madam Pomfrey. Ron looked down at Harry, whose eyes were still closed. Hagrid's face broke into a huge grin when he saw Harry's head resting against Ron's shoulder with Ron's arm holding him close.

"I...er...Harry asked me to try to warm him up a bit," Ron offered by way of explanation. His ears flushed a deep red.

Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Good thinking, Mr. Weasley. I would have suggested that myself. Is Mr. Potter awake?"

"Yes," replied Harry. But as he opened his mouth to speak, his teeth started chattering uncontrollably.

Madam Pomfrey gave him three potions. One was Pepper-Up Potion - Ron could recognize the smell - that caused steam to pour from Harry's ears. Another potion was to improve circulation and the last was to repair frostbite. "Hagrid, may he stay here for another hour or two? I'd hate to move him before the potions have a chance to work properly."

"He can stay all day if he likes," replied Hagrid. He showed Madam Pomfrey to the door, and Ron heard her give instructions for Harry to report to the hospital wing as soon as he returned to the castle.

Within several minutes, Ron noticed that the steam had stopped coming out of Harry's ears, his constant shivering had finally ceased, and his skin was getting some color back. Ron no longer had his arms around Harry but was still next to him in the chair holding one of Harry's hands between the two of his, trying to warm it up. Truth be told, Ron was enjoying the caretaker role, and had nothing more than fleeting discomfort at the idea of being overly familiar with his best mate. It was hard to believe that the boy sitting next to him, looking so vulnerable and frail, was the same boy who had bested Lord Voldemort on five different occasions.

Half an hour passed, and Harry could finally hold his tea without spilling it. As he drank, he told Ron and Hagrid what had happened.

"I had a terrible nightmare, and woke up with my head throbbing. So I decided I'd go for a little walk to clear my head and wandered down to the lake without realizing where I was going. I was headed back to the castle when I swear I felt Dementors swarming. I panicked and looked around, but even though it felt like hundreds, I didn't see any. But the feeling got worse and, well, I fainted." Harry looked at them sheepishly, and then closed his eyes again.

"But Harry, there couldn't ha' been any Dementors at Hogwarts," replied Hagrid. "After the Ministry lost control of 'em, Dumbledore put up additional protections all around the school to keep 'em out. Haven't been any 'round here since."

"The only other thing I can think of," said Harry, "is that perhaps Voldemort was surrounded by Dementors and I could feel it through my scar." He looked anxiously at Ron and Hagrid, who were wincing at Harry's refusal to say "You-Know-Who."

"If that's the case, then you should say something to Dumbledore straight away," said Ron. "He's known the Dementors have joined up with You-Know-Who for more than a year. He'll want you to tell him."

"I'm heading to see him in a little while," said Hagrid. "I'll let him know you'd like a word."

Harry looked at them miserably. The only thing he wanted to do less than get out of Hagrid's comfortable armchair was to speak to Dumbledore about Voldemort and Dementors. "I suppose you're right," he sighed.

An hour after taking the potions, Harry was getting restless. He was starting to feel hungry, which they thought was a good sign. Hagrid wrapped Harry up in Ron's cloak and they all headed up to the castle. There were only a few people eating breakfast, so they filled their plates quickly and Harry and Ron sat down next to Neville, who was alone at the Gryffindor table reading the Daily Prophet.

"You all right, Harry?" asked Neville. "You're so pale, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Harry glanced at Ron, who kept his mouth shut for once, and answered, "I'll be okay. I just, er, fell asleep outside and nearly froze to death. A bit stupid, really."

If Neville thought it odd that Harry had been sleeping outside, he didn't show it. "That's too bad," said Neville, "especially with the Slytherin match coming up. Will you still be able to play?"

Ron looked at his watch in a panic. Harry had called a Quidditch practice to start in ten minutes. If he left now, he'd only be a couple of minutes late. "Harry, I forgot all about the early practice time for today. Do you think...er, what do you want us to do...? Should we practice without you?"

"Yeah, you can lead it, Ron. Heaven knows we need the training," Harry grinned. "I'll ask Madam Pomfrey if I can play, but somehow I doubt she'll let me. See if Evans wants to play Seeker today."

Ron turned to Neville. "Would you mind going with Harry to the hospital wing, Neville? I'm still not convinced he should be wandering around alone. Who knows where he'll fall asleep next time!"

Underneath the table, Harry found Ron's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks," said Harry, but the intensity of his gaze said so much more. Thanks for saving my life. Thanks for taking care of me. Thanks for caring enough to come and find me. Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder as he left, and he walked out of the Great Hall with a lump in his throat.

* * * * *

Except for a few hours during Quidditch practice on Saturday, Ron spent the next three days as Harry's constant companion, and was never more than a few steps away from Harry at any time. When Harry went to talk to Dumbledore, Ron waited for him at the bottom of the moving staircase. Ron sat next to him at every meal, and sat at the same table when they studied. None of this was strange to a casual observer, as Ron and Harry had been inseparable for more than six years, but Hermione couldn't hold her tongue any longer after Ron spread marmalade on a piece of toast and handed it to Harry at breakfast Tuesday morning.

"Ron," she said pointedly, "when are you going to stop acting like a mother hen and let Harry take care of himself? You're practically smothering him."

Ron glared at her with a hurt expression. "Just trying to be nice." He turned to Harry. "Am I smothering you?"

"A little," Harry answered truthfully, a grin creeping onto his face. "I don't mind, though. It's better being smothered than having you not speaking to me."

"Okay, I get the hint. I'll back off. It's just that...well...you could have died. And if it hadn't been for the fact that I woke up when I did, we might still be looking for you. I'm sorry, but that disturbs me. Excuse me for caring," huffed Ron.

"Don't listen to Hermione," smiled Harry. "Anyway, this way I don't have to fix my own toast." Ron turned red, but noticed that Harry put his hand on Ron's forearm as he spoke, and it had lingered there just a moment longer than it should have.

* * * * *

After breakfast, they all had Transfiguration. Hermione and Harry sat in front to the right of McGonagall's desk, while Ron, who was partnered with Susan Bones, sat in the middle of the room. Ron had taken a peculiar liking to Susan, primarily because she always laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones. They were five minutes into their practice time for Conjuring spells, when Susan leaned over to Ron and said, "You've got it bad, don't you?"

"What are you talking about?" Ron answered, looking up from his notes.

"You haven't been able to keep your eyes off Hermione Granger. I'd be surprised if you heard a single thing Professor McGonagall told us."

"I was listening. And I haven't been looking at Hermione." Ron was about to say who he had been looking at, but thought better of it. "Okay, so maybe a little. But I don't 'have it bad' for her. I know her too well for that."

"Whatever you say. I just remember how it was when I thought I was in love with Harry Potter last year. I couldn't eat or sleep, and I would look at him dreamily from across the Great Hall, just like you were looking at Hermione. But then he told me he wasn't interested, so I got over it." Susan conjured a handkerchief and pretended to dry her eyes.

"Hey Susan," blurted out Ron, "if you don't mind my asking, what is it about Harry that makes girls fall all over him? Is it just because he's famous, or is it something else about him?"

Susan pondered this for a moment, while Ron, concentrating very hard, conjured a quill. "I guess," she said, "that certain types of girls would only like him because he's famous. Personally, I really admired his courage to risk leading the D.A. in our fifth year. He's very nice and you can tell he cares about people. He's always willing to help other people out. Plus, he's so cute."

Ron and Susan both turned to look at Harry who caught them staring and grinned back. Ron's thoughts started racing. God, she's right. He is cute. And I have been staring at him a lot. Well, maybe not dreamily. Weasley, what's the matter with you? If you're going to fall for one of your best friends, it should be Hermione!

* * * * *

With his newfound awareness of Harry, Ron suddenly noticed that Harry seemed to be seeking him out too. He caught Harry staring at him three times in Charms while he was supposed to be copying notes from the board. At Quidditch practice, Harry was nearly hit by a Bludger while he was watching Ron loop the goal posts instead of paying attention to the rest of the game.

In fact, Ron found Harry's lack of concentration to be very disconcerting. Harry, who had the ability to focus on Quidditch with the intensity of a laser beam, had to call in the rest of the team to help find the Snitch so they could go in to dinner. His concentration wasn't any better as they sat in the library researching Shielding Charms. Harry kept getting up and walking around the perimeter of the library, as if the task of sitting still was too much to bear.

"What's the matter with you?" asked Ron, when Harry returned to their table. "You're pacing around like a caged animal. Are you nervous about the match on Saturday?"

Harry glared at Ron as if he were surprised that Ron couldn't see some obvious problem. "No. I've heard they're playing the all-thug team again this year. I've got Malfoy figured out now. That's why we're practicing defensive moves."

"What is it then?" Ron asked again, anxiously.

"It's..." Harry looked up and saw Hermione bounding toward them with a wide grin on her face. "I'll tell you later," he said. Harry turned to Hermione. "You look happy."

"You'll never guess what I've just found out. Apparently Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were planning to break into the broom shed and tamper with the Gryffindor brooms. But Professor McGonagall heard them talking about it, so now they have detention for the whole night tomorrow." Looking quite pleased, she pulled out some parchment and her Arithmancy text and started feverishly copying down numbers and symbols.

Harry seemed to be able to settle down after that. Whether it was glee at hearing Malfoy's latest plans for revenge were foiled or Hermione's studious influence, he was able to complete his assignment by the time the library closed for the evening. When they returned to the common room, Hermione disappeared up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, leaving Ron and Harry behind with a handful of other students.

"What were you going to tell me in the library?" asked Ron at once.

Harry blushed crimson. "I don't really feel like talking about it tonight. It's not that important - it can wait." He looked at Ron with his piercing green eyes - eyes that seemed to want to tell him something that his mouth couldn't say. Ron was slightly perturbed that Harry wouldn't confide in him, but he had learned from years of experience that eventually Harry would talk. He always did.

"Are you going to bed?" asked Ron.

"No. I can already tell I won't be able to fall asleep yet." Harry flopped onto the couch nearest to the fire. Ron set his books down and sat down next to him. Ron knew he'd sat a little too close - their shoulders were touching and he could hear Harry's breathing speed up. He just couldn't bear the thought of going upstairs without Harry. They sat there watching the fire, saying very little and both very aware that there were things between them that needed to be said.

* * * * *

By the time Saturday came around, the student body was worked up to its usual fever pitch over the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match. Malfoy was still livid over receiving detention for their unsuccessful plot to sabotage the game, and the Gryffindors were quite smug about having had an extra day to practice that week.

At a quarter past ten, Ron, Harry and Ginny headed down to the changing rooms to prepare for the match. Harry had carefully crafted a finesse strategy that he believed would take advantage of Slytherin's lack of mental prowess. He figured that Malfoy would have some new dirty tricks up his sleeve, and had done his best to anticipate the possibilities and prepare his teammates to deal with them. He just hoped Sloper would be able to stay on his broom this year.

Ron was nervous, but confident. He had worked tirelessly over the previous two summers to improve his Keeping, and had played a phenomenal season last year, once he was out of the shadow of his brothers. Ginny had practiced with him, and now had astounding accuracy once she was close enough to take a shot at the hoops. They really felt like they had the upper hand in today's match.

Eleven o'clock approached, and Harry gave a short but inspirational pep talk. "You all know what we're capable of," he said, "if we stick to our game plan and focus on defense. Slytherin will play dirty - they always do - and it's everyone's responsibility to make sure they don't get seriously hurt. Watch for Crabbe and Goyle to hit Bludgers directly at you after time has been called. The weather is on our side today - clear and not too windy. I'll handle Malfoy and get the Snitch, but I need you to keep us in the game. You all know we're good enough to beat this pathetic lot. Let's go out and do it!"

The cheering noise from the crowd was deafening as the Gryffindor team walked out on the field. The Slytherin team had also just entered the stadium, and Ron watched them as both captains approached the middle of the pitch to where Madam Hooch was waiting. Malfoy was dwarfed next to his cohorts; he led his entourage as if he were a little prince holding court. Malfoy and Harry were viewing each other with the utmost disdain. They shook hands only briefly, neither boy removing his gaze from the other, as if the observation of the obligatory protocol was a little more than either could stand. Then the whistle blew and fourteen brooms rose rapidly to their places, waiting for release of the Quaffle. The match was on.

Ron became all too aware of Malfoy's latest strategy within the first few minutes of the match. He had obviously decided that Crabbe and Goyle should focus on sending Ron to the hospital wing. Bludgers were flying at him from all directions - any time they thought they could get away with it. Fortunately, Harry had planned for this possibility, and Ron was grateful for the hours he had spent practicing his dodging and other defensive moves. Twenty minutes into the game he had managed to stop all but one score, and had nothing more than a bruise on one leg where he'd been unable to avoid both Bludgers at once.

Malfoy's strategy for Harry was to stick close and cut him off whenever possible. This had the effect of annoying Harry greatly, especially when Malfoy had no qualms about plowing into him at full speed in an attempt to knock him off his broom. After the third time it happened, Harry flew away at full speed, but he found he couldn't see well enough to find the Snitch when he was going that fast. As soon as he slowed down, Malfoy was all over him again like a bad suit.

By stationing Crabbe and Goyle near Ron, the Gryffindor Chasers had a relatively easy time scoring when they had possession in the Slytherin end. Fifty minutes into the match, neither Harry nor Malfoy had seen any sign of the Snitch, Gryffindor was leading 90-40, and Ron took a Bludger to the stomach that knocked the wind out of him. Harry quickly called time-out.

Once Ron was able to speak, he gasped, "You'd bloody well better catch the Snitch soon, Harry, or those goons are going to kill me!" Harry was sympathetic and started thinking fast.

Harry pulled the team together in a huddle. "Okay, then. Change of tactics. Kirke, you hang back and see if you can give Ron some protection against those Bludgers. Sloper, you continue to play your normal position. Natalie, I want you to let the other two worry about scoring. You focus on tailing Malfoy and cutting him off whenever you can. I don't care what you do as long as you help put some distance between him and me. I think he's trying to drag the game out as long as it takes to incapacitate Ron, and I need him out of my way so I can find the Snitch." As Madam Hooch approached them to call time, he asked, "Any questions?" They shook their heads and prepared to mount their brooms.

When play was resumed, it appeared the Malfoy had chastised his team for not being aggressive enough, because they continued the same strategy but with much more speed and force. He hadn't counted on Harry pulling one of his Chasers to block him, though, and the tactic seemed to infuriate him. Malfoy rammed Natalie several times, just as he had done to Harry, but she managed to stay on her broom and even got tangled up with him once or twice, which gave Harry a chance to search for the Snitch unencumbered.

Kirke and Goyle went at each other, and each team was awarded a penalty shot. Gryffindor's was blocked, but Ron guessed wrong and Slytherin's sailed through an unguarded hoop. Enthusiastic cheers rose from the Slytherin stands, as they sensed their team on its way to making a comeback. Suddenly, Harry saw a glittering flash near the Slytherin goal. He tore after it, trying to maintain eye contact, but wary of Malfoy streaking towards it as well. Harry urged his Firebolt onward, crouching low to the handle to move as fast as possible. He could see that Malfoy and he would likely reach it at the same time. He willed his broom faster, and as he closed in he sat up...reached out his hand...and captured the Golden Snitch. Once again, Gryffindor had prevailed over Slytherin!

Harry wheeled his broom around to see where Malfoy had ended up. He had been bracing himself for a collision, and was surprised by the easy catch. He cast his eyes to the ground, where a blur of green robes was streaking towards a body lying there. Harry maneuvered for a better look - it was Malfoy, lying on his side in a crumpled heap.

Ginny Weasley was the first one to reach him, and they hugged as Harry still held the Snitch triumphantly in his hand. "What happened to Malfoy?" Harry asked, as Sloper joined them next and then Natalie.

Ginny was ecstatic. "Malfoy was right behind you when Jack was trying to knock away a Bludger. He missed, of course, but it tipped off the end of his club and caught Malfoy right in the back of the head. He never saw it coming."

The Gryffindor team descended in a mass of scarlet robes, and Harry noted with some disappointment that Malfoy was now sitting up and looked like he might be able to get back to the castle on his own power. He consulted briefly with Madam Hooch over the legality of the move that felled Malfoy and she confirmed that there had been no penalties and the match was rightfully Gryffindor's. Harry and Ron finally found each other and embraced like brothers, each knowing exactly how much this win meant to the other.

The Creevey brothers raced back to the Gryffindor common room, having replaced the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan as the unofficial party boys the previous year. Harry and Ron, meanwhile, were taking their time, basking in the glow of their victory and enjoying the adrenaline high that always accompanied a Quidditch victory, especially a victory over Slytherin.

By the time Ron and Harry got to the changing room, Kirke and Sloper were already done showering, and their post-game euphoria was wearing off. They gave Sloper a hard time for failing to kill Malfoy with his poorly hit Bludger, and exchanged high fives for about the twentieth time.

Standing under the steady stream of hot water in the showers, Ron heard the outside door slam, and knew that he and Harry were now alone. He stole a glance at Harry as he reached over to get the soap. This was nuts - in all their years at Hogwarts, Ron had seen Harry in the shower dozens of times. But this time, the image of Harry's sleek muscular figure, shiny from the soapy water, was too much for Ron, and waves of desire shot right to his groin. Sweet Merlin, I can't let him see this, thought Ron, mortified by his body's betrayal of feelings he wanted desperately to deny. As he tried to envision Snape in Neville's gran's hat, an image that had always worked well to quell his unwanted excitement, he looked at Harry again and couldn't help but notice he was having a similar problem controlling his body. Ron finished showering as quickly as he could and sought the refuge of his towel. A few minutes later, he heard Harry turn off the water but he did not join Ron, who was sitting on the long bench hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. Finally Ron heard wet footsteps come up behind him and Harry sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry, Ron," he said with a deep sigh. "I just can't do this anymore."

"Can't do what?" asked Ron, not trusting himself to look up.

"I can't keep pretending that there's nothing going on between us." Ron cast a startled glance at Harry, who was blushing and obviously very nervous.

Ron wasn't sure what Harry was implying. Was he uncomfortable because Ron had stepped over the invisible line between friendship and something more? "Harry, if I did something I shouldn't..." he started.

Harry reached over and turned Ron's face toward his. His hand lingered on Ron's chin, and Ron could feel Harry's fingers trembling slightly. They stared into each other's eyes, and Ron felt as if Harry was scanning his mind, trying to read his thoughts. "Every time I look at you, I remember sitting with you in Hagrid's armchair with your arms around me..." Harry's words trailed off and he seemed afraid to voice something they both already knew.

Ron wanted to shout out 'Yes, I think about it all the time too,' but he still didn't understand - still didn't know - if Harry viewed this as a good thing or as some fluke that ought to be acknowledged and then pressed far back into the recesses of their brains as if it had never happened. But now that they were here, sitting so close they could feel each other's breath... how he longed to kiss those gorgeous lips! Throwing caution to the winds, Ron leaned forward and pressed his lips tentatively to Harry's and was genuinely surprised when Harry kissed him back. Ron's stomach felt queasy, and every nerve in his body was pulsating. They kissed again, more confidently this time, their eyes open and seeking each other's reassurance that this was okay. Ron, realizing he had forgotten to breathe, pulled away, panting.

"God, Harry, I...I," stammered Ron, "I have no idea what the bloody hell I'm doing." He cast a sideways glance at Harry, whose glistening eyes and expression made him look like Christmas just came early.

"And you think I do?" Harry responded. "Actually, I thought you were doing rather well."

Ron smiled. Harry noticed he was shaking slightly, and there were goose pimples all over Ron's upper body. "You're shivering, Ron. Are you cold?"

Ignoring Harry's question, Ron tried in vain to express the emotions that were bombarding his brain. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and finally sputtered, "I just kissed you. Twice. And I liked it."

"Third time lucky," said Harry, and he pulled Ron close and devoured his lips once more, with a passion so intense it was like a freight train coursing through his body. Ron's senses were exploding - the texture of Harry's tongue as it parted his lips and explored the recesses of his mouth, and his nostrils filled with the fresh scent of soap and the essence that was uniquely Harry. A desire burned within Ron that he had never felt before. A low moan escaped from his throat quite of its own accord. He was no longer in control.

And then it stopped. Harry had pulled away this time but, unlike Ron, he seemed to be in total control and was seemingly completely rational. If it weren't for the fact that he see the evidence of Harry's desire, Ron would have thought he was totally unaffected by his own passion. Ron's questioning gaze met Harry's serious one, and he waited for an answer.

"They'll be starting to wonder where we are by now. If we don't show up soon we'll have some explaining to do." Harry walked over to his clothes and dropped his towel, giving Ron a view of the most beautiful eye candy he'd ever seen. "Go on, then," Harry continued, "and stop looking at me or you'll never be able to walk."

"Snape in a vulture hat," Ron mumbled.

"Sorry?" asked Harry.

"I was thinking of Neville's worst fear - Snape in his gran's vulture hat. It's a trick I use whenever I need to, er, calm down," said Ron, blushing slightly. Ron got up from the bench and started to dress.

"Good one."

They finished dressing in silence. Ron had never been so confused or conflicted in his whole life. Harry Potter was his best friend. Harry Potter was the heartthrob of half of the girls at Hogwarts. Harry Potter was a boy. Harry Potter was exploring Ron's mouth with his tongue and Ron never wanted him to stop. And there was something else bothering him. He picked up his things and found Harry waiting at the outside door for him.

"Tell me how you turn it on and off like that," said Ron gruffly.

"What do you mean?" Harry said, as they started walking toward the castle.

"How do you go from being Casanova one minute to, er, Madam Pince the next?"

Harry snorted with laughter. "Madam Pince?" Ron didn't seem to think it was funny. "Oh, stop brooding, Ron. I've been taking Occlumency for over a year. I am learning something, you know. You have to clear your mind of all emotion before you can get it to work and I've been practicing a lot." They walked along for a bit in silence. "You'd do well to practice clearing away your emotions, Ron, or we'll never be able to pull this off. Plus, you're a terrible liar, so don't say anything to anyone."

Ron was about to protest, but he thought better of it, remembering that Ginny told him all the time that he was a terrible liar. How in the name of Merlin were they ever going to keep this a secret?

Just before they reached the clearing leading up to the castle steps, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's hand and pulled him into the shadow of a tree, which obscured their view of the castle windows. He pressed Ron up against the tree and sandwiched him with his body. It didn't occur to Ron to protest. "I can tell you're having a hard time getting used to the idea of us...like this. But don't take too long to work it out, okay? I think it's brilliant, and I don't want to waste any more time." As he spoke, Ron could feel Harry's warm breath against his neck, his knees turning to jelly at Harry's words. They sealed their silent pact with a kiss.

The noise from the Quidditch celebration party was deafening. Even Hermione took time off from her work to join the fun. Dennis Creevey quickly swept Harry away to the other end of the common room, and soon he was surrounded by a group of adoring fourth and fifth-year girls. Ron watched in awe as he flirted with them and entertained them with anecdotes about the Malfoy's shortcomings as a Seeker and captain. Last year, Ron would have been mad with jealousy over the attention Harry was getting from these girls. Now, suddenly, he was jealous of the girls getting Harry's undivided attention.

Ron turned away to chat with Hermione and Ginny for a while. When he looked back, Harry had moved to where Dean Thomas sat drawing an illustration of the match on a large piece of parchment. Harry glanced over at Ron, saw him staring, and his whole countenance changed. His face lit up like a Christmas tree, his bright green eyes glistened and a huge grin crossed his face. Ron's heart melted, and any jealously he might have had vanished instantly. That smile was meant for him alone.

* * * * *

Lying on his bed late one night after everyone else had fallen asleep, Ron was still trying to get comfortable with his feelings about Harry. His Harry. There were certain advantages, Ron thought, to having a secret romance with your best friend of more than six years. For one thing, nobody noticed you spending a lot of time together, because you've always done that. Plus, you know each other so well that you can get your point across while talking about completely mundane things.

Like yesterday in the common room, after Harry had been giving him "the look" and licking his lips whenever he thought nobody was watching, Ron blurted out of the blue, "Harry, remember you were going to loan me that Do It Yourself Broom Servicing book?"

Harry didn't skip a beat when he jumped up and said, "Oh, that's right. Come upstairs and I'll get it for you." Of course Ron had no interest in the book, just its owner, and Harry had understood this immediately.

When they'd entered the empty circular room, Ron had growled, "What do you think you're doing? You're getting me all...excited. It's very distracting."

Harry smirked, "Well that was the point. It's only fair - I find you distracting all the time." He was looking quite pleased with himself, like that time he'd gotten George to bite into one of his own Canary Creams without him knowing.

Ron had kissed him then, partly because Harry wasn't expecting it, and partly because he needed to taste those sensuous lips that had been taunting him for the last hour. "You'll want to be more careful," he'd panted at Harry, "because they'll be suspicious if I... you know... cream my pants in the middle of the common room."

He had expected Harry to laugh, but instead he whimpered, "Oh, God...Ron." He leaned into Ron, who could feel against his leg the obvious impact his words had on Harry. Harry's next kiss set him on fire again.

"So now I know how to get you all worked up," Ron had chuckled. "Just talk a little dirty and you'll be all over me, eh?"

Harry had flashed Ron a wanton look, his green eyes piercing through to Ron's soul. "And you'll want to be careful if you continue to tease me, or else brace yourself for whatever might happen next." Harry had taken a deep breath and walked over to his trunk and pulled out the Broom Servicing Book. He chucked it at Ron. "I'll service your broom for you if you want..." he'd tried to say with a straight face. Ron laughed, and they had headed back down to the common room.

Now, more than twenty-four hours later, just the memory of Harry's voice and the feeling of Harry's lips on his was enough to get his heart racing. Would he ever get used to the knots in his stomach whenever Harry touched him or kissed him or gave him "the look"? In Ron's mind, this was the most confusing part. He remembered Ginny talking to Mum about butterflies in her stomach whenever she started dating someone new. This thing he felt with Harry - it was more like having a Firebolt jammed down his throat. There was nothing subtle about it, which was just as well, because "subtle" was a word that was not usually associated with Ron. Ron had no idea how he wanted this relationship to resolve. He felt fairly certain that Harry would let him back out of the situation with no hard feelings. In fact, Harry hadn't made a move toward him since the day of the Slytherin match. He'd let Ron forge ahead at his own speed, knowing how difficult it was for Ron and wanting him to choose to be with Harry for the right reasons. But Harry had as much as told him that he'd be ready for more whenever Ron was.

But Ron wondered...would it even be possible for him to walk away? Could he go back to being Harry's mate without their obvious attraction to each other messing things up between them? He knew that would make Harry miserable, and he certainly didn't want that. And if he did choose to go back to the way they were before, he knew that decision would have to be final - Harry deserved better than a prat who couldn't make up his mind.

Ron lay quietly, listening to Neville snore and Dean thrashing about in his sleep. So what was holding him back from committing himself to the one person he wanted more than anyone else? Harry's gender? Well, true, it was unconventional, but he certainly wasn't the first Hogwarts student to prefer his own gender. Besides, he didn't like all boys, just Harry. He was worried about what everyone would think of him, though, if they found out. Merlin, he had five brothers! He'd never be able to set foot in the same room as Fred or George if they got wind of it. And if Malfoy found out - the whole school would know in seconds, if they didn't before. Wait, not just the school. Harry Potter was famous, and it would probably be in the Daily Prophet or Witch Weekly within a matter of days. Ron felt his heart sink. The thing that scared him most about this budding romance was fear of embarrassment. He didn't like having that fear; it didn't seem right. He should be able to do whatever he wanted without the world getting involved. He was just going to have to make sure that nobody ever found out.