Competition

It's past midnight now, and I'm no closer to sleep than I was two hours ago. I glance over at my beautiful fiancée snoozing away without a care in the world, and I'm hit with another wave of the guilt that seems to consume me these days. I prop myself up on an elbow and run my fingers through Mandy's auburn hair where it flows gently across my pillow. She sighs peacefully in her slumber, and I wonder what it would be like to sleep so contentedly.

If there is a bigger idiot than me, I don't know who it is. <>Ron Weasley, the King of Prats. I should never have gotten myself into this predicament in the first place. It's not all my fault, mind you; it's just that I have absolutely no self-control. I should have told him 'no.' I could have clapped him on the shoulder, bought him a drink and raised a toast to times past. "Here's to Harry and all the great times we've had," I could have said. "May he always remain my best mate" and nothing more.

But that would have been too easy. Harry and me, we have to do everything the hard way. Well, Harry does everything the hard way, and I just follow along after him like the faithful sidekick I've always been. I used to think that I did this out of a sense of loyalty. During the past few months, though, I realize it's an addiction with me. How else could I explain cheating on a girl as lovely as Mandy Brocklehurst? It doesn't make any sense. What's wrong with me?

Except that I know exactly what's wrong with me. I'm in love with him. I know this, and so does he. In fact, there are probably others who know this as well, but fortunately, Mandy is not one of them. I watch her sleep, longing to be in love with her the same way I'm in love with Harry. I hate myself for my weakness. If I'd just refused him, then I'm certain that I could have fallen in love with her instead.

I climb out of bed, careful not to wake Mandy, and pull on a dressing gown. It's cold in the room, and the chill of the floorboards on my feet wakes me up even more. I pad out to the kitchen to make some tea, but abandon that idea when I see the bottle of brandy sitting on the counter. I don't actually like brandy, but Harry likes it, and when I swallow the first sip, it reminds me of the taste of his lips on mine. After that, it goes down easy.

Suddenly, it's crystal clear what I have to do. Harry's messing with my mind, so that I'm neither capable of coherent thought nor restful sleep. I've spent two months in this limbo, and it's time for some answers. I trudge back to the bedroom, full of the resolve that only a stiff brandy can bring. I put some clothes on and leave Mandy a hastily scribbled note so she won't worry.

A minute later, I am Apparating to the alley behind Harry's flat. I can see that a dim light is on in the bedroom, and I'm not surprised. Harry hasn't had more than four hours sleep in a row since fifth year at Hogwarts. I walk up the stairs slowly, trying to decide exactly what I'm going say to him.

I want answers, dammit, but I know better than to demand them. Harry doesn't like it when I try to get inside his head. Sometimes he's so closed off that it makes Snape seem talkative. I need a more subtle approach. It would help if I'd ever had any practice being subtle.

When I get to the top of the stairs, I realize that I have been so focused on my thoughts that I must have been making quite a racket, because Harry is standing there in his t-shirt and boxers with the door open.

"Ron," he says, pulling me inside and shutting the door quickly. "I'm surprised to see you at this time of night." His brows are furrowed with concern, and I can't tell whether 'surprised' means 'pleased' or 'disturbed.' I smile, and he smiles back. I can see now that he's pleased.

"Couldn't sleep," I say, and I open my mouth to speak some more, but he catches me in a kiss so hard it nearly takes my breath away.

We stand in the hallway, clinging to each other, kissing passionately for a long while. I allow my hands to wander down Harry's muscular back, finally cupping his firm arse and pulling him closer to me. I've nearly forgotten why I came. Well, I haven't forgotten. I just can't make myself care as I feel his breath, moist and warm against the nape of my neck. Harry's hands wander as well, and my traitorous body responds the same as always to his touch. Finally, as his fingers move toward the waistband of my trousers, I remember that this is how I got into my current predicament in the first place. I break away from him, taking care not to look at the disappointment I'm sure is on his face.

"Harry, wait," I say. I back away, and then decide to move into the kitchen, where I'm less likely to be distracted. That's what I tell myself, anyway. Harry follows me, and when I sit down in a chair at the table, he sits across from me, knowing now that I'm not here for entertainment.

"Do you want something to drink?" Harry asks cautiously. I can see that he's nervous, and I don't want him to be. What does he think I'm going to say? What am I going to say?

I swallow, trying to gather up my resolve again. "No, thanks," I answer. "Relax, Harry. You're making me nervous. I've just got some stuff on my mind that I wanted to talk to you about."

I can see the relief wash over his face and his shoulders relax. I'm relieved, too, because I don't want him to get so angry that he won't talk to me. We've had that non-conversation too many times before.

Harry's expression is neutral as he asks, "So what's on your mind?"

"I'm trying to decide what to do about Mandy," I say. "I'm not sure how much longer I can put her off - she's keen to set a wedding date."

Harry frowns, and I can see that he's not fooled in the least by my roundabout approach. "Gee, Ron, I don't know. Some witches think June is a nice month for a wedding," he says sarcastically. I laugh, and then quickly remember that I'm trying to have a serious conversation.

I have to hold my temper in check, because I'm angry that he's doing this again - trying to get me off the topic so that I'll leave without resolving the problem. "C'mon, Harry, you know what I mean. I can't make any kind of permanent commitment to her until I figure out what the hell is going on between you and me."

Harry's face is guarded, and I can tell that he's struggling to come up with a clever quip that will put me off again. Before I think about what I'm saying, the words come out of my mouth. "Just tell me the truth, Harry. What's going on between us?"

His emerald eyes bore into me as he says, "I'm pretty certain it goes like this: you come over to my flat, we drink some, we shag each other senseless, and then you go home to your beautiful fiancée. Does that sound about right?"

Another sarcastic answer - well doesn't that just figure? I'm angry now, and I feel it burning in my chest. If only it were meaningless to me, too, then I'd be able to break away from Harry. But it devastates me to hear those words come out of his mouth. "So that's all this is to you - senseless shagging?" I ask, accusingly.

"I idn't say that," he shoots back at me.

I glare at him. "Then tell me what it is, Harry. Tell me the truth for once." My voice sounds angry, and I'm breathing heavily. I'm dying to hear the truth, yet terrified at the same time.

Harry doesn't say anything for a long time. It makes me sad, knowing how close we could be if only he'd just talk to me. I get tired of waiting and realize that I've gotten the answer I came for.

As I stand up, so does Harry. He grabs my arm tightly and blocks my passage. "Don't go," he says. We stare at each other for a moment, while I try to decide what to do. "What do you want from me, Ron?" he asks. I see in his eyes he is afraid that once I walk out the door, I won't come back. He's right.

I know he's sincere; his eyes don't lie - not when they look at me like this. But if I don't take a stand now, he'll never change - we'll never change. "Harry, I love you, but I'm tired of this game we play. You never tell me what you think about stuff - what you think about me. At least Mandy..." I watch him bristle when I say her name, "Mandy tells me all sorts of things: about what she likes, what she doesn't like, how her day is going, boring girl stuff... And then I tell her what I'm thinking. And it feels nice that she cares."

Harry looks as if he's trying hard to understand what I'm saying. "So, you want me to tell you stuff..." he says slowly, looking up at me to see if he's gotten it right.

Shit, where's Hermione when you need her? Me, the one with the emotional range of a teaspoon, trying to teach Harry about relationships and communication skills. I try again. "Harry, it doesn't really matter what you say - it's more that you're willing to share with me what's going on in your mind."

I recognize a flash of comprehension in his eyes, but it's fleeting. "I'm not very good at sharing my thoughts."

I chuckle. "Yeah, I noticed. But if you expect me to give up Mandy, you've got to be willing to work on it."

"I don't expect... you'd do that for me?" Harry's eyes open wide, and I can see hope in them for the first time since we started this conversation. A smile crosses his face as I nod my head, and he touches my face with his fingertips. "I don't know what to say," he whispers.

"Just start talking, Potter."

So he does. Words tumble out of his mouth, as if he's been stranded alone on an island for years. He's telling me that he loves me, and that he's missed the way we used to argue back and forth about the Chudley Cannons, and didn't I think it was about time the Ministry overturned that stupid policy on werewolves. I can hardly get a word in edgewise as he tells about Oliver Wood and Alicia Spinnet and did I know how much it turned him on when I smile at him like this. I realize at this moment that I've never loved him as much as I do right now.

In mid-sentence, I lean over and kiss him full on the lips. Our tongues dance, then I pull away, whispering, "The trick is to know when to talk and when to shut-up." Harry grins at that, but it quickly turns into a moan as the tip of my tongue trails along the line of his jaw.

"Ron, I'd really like to do some stuff to you, and I think it would be best if we were naked in my bed. I'm feeling like it would be rather fun." Harry's wearing a smart-arse grin, and I'm about to cuff him, except that it is a rather good idea, and I'm so hard I can barely walk.

I've lost track of time but I don't really care as Harry ravishes me again. I think I've created a monster, because he's decided to give me a running commentary of what he's going to do to me next. I've never been so excited, and I tell him so. He says he feels the same way too.

We finally share the intimacy that has eluded us for months - years, actually. It's the closeness that I've been craving - the closeness I have with Mandy, even though my feelings for her aren't as strong. Harry and I are no longer just lovers: we're soul mates, I think as I drift off to sleep.

I awaken with a start, not expecting the legs intertwined with mine to have such knobbly knees. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Harry is sleeping peacefully, a contented smile across his face. I am alarmed to discover that it's nearly ten o'clock. But then again, Harry has been asleep for nearly six hours now. I smile to myself, pleased that I was able to wear him out enough for him to get a decent night's sleep.

I shift my position, extracting Harry's limbs from mine, and he stirs. I'm stiff and sore, so I carefully get out of bed to shower. When I return - damp, with my hair dripping slightly - Harry is sitting up in bed, waiting for me.

"Hey, look who's finally up," I say, leaning down to kiss his lips. They taste musky, like sex, and it makes me want to forget how much trouble I'm in with Mandy and jump back into bed.

"I had a dream," says Harry, staring past me as I sit on the edge of the bed.

I take his hands in mine, holding one briefly to my lips before resting it back on his lap. "Tell me about it."

"I dreamed that you said you'd give up Mandy for me. And then we made wild, passionate love for hours." I can't tell whether he's serious about thinking it was a dream, but I decide to play along, just for fun.

"And how did that make you feel," I say, testing him.

Harry smiles, his eyes shining brightly in a way that I haven't seen for years. "It made me feel happy - like when my Patronus returns to me and I touch it, just before it disappears. It's like every happy thought I've ever had, rolled into one."

I think about that image, and remember my own feeble attempts to conjure a Patronus during DA meetings. It was a nice feeling. And how much stronger are Harry's feelings than mine, considering he can produce a corporeal Patronus? I'm impressed - he must be really happy then. "Are you worried that I've changed my mind?" I ask.

Harry doesn't want to answer, so he nods his head ever so slightly and says, "I don't want you to think I'm acting all jealous..."

I've never seen him behave like this before - anxious and unsure of himself. It's unnerving, to say the least. But I suppose that's why he kept those feelings inside - so he wouldn't scare me off. "If you're a bit jealous, that's okay, seeing as how I spent half my childhood being jealous of you. I just hope you know how very pointless it is."

I resist the temptation to stay, despite Harry's best efforts at distraction. When I get back home, Mandy is about to claw my eyes out. I'm thankful for the shielding charms I've perfected over the years. I say nothing to her, refusing to tell her where I've been or why I left. It's quite easy to pick a fight with Mandy, and I hope she'll tire of me soon. My communications skills are not much better than Harry's, after all, and I'm not really interested in making an effort to improve them for her.

It seems a shame to make her go, though. She's so beautiful, and the sex was fantastic. But how could she ever expect to compete with Harry?

finis