Love Blows

His finger traced a pattern on the busy rug on which he sat. Ron sighed as he lost himself in thought and began to forget his surroundings. The crackling fire disappeared and Ron's mind didn't even register the thin body that sat to his right or the face that tilted slightly so that brilliant green eyes could peer questioningly. A warm hand rested on Ron's arm, and, as a result, he jumped considerably. The thin body lurched back at the sudden movement and immediately leaned in once more.

"You all right, then, Ron?"

Ron squinted at the boy with mild confusion and his intense inner turmoil and heartbreak was written plainly on his face for a few seconds. A false smile plastered itself over his face as his head shook.

"Yeah."

He returned to the carpet and sighed yet again. The boy's gaze did not waver nor turn angry. It remained calm and open as it waited for a reply. The redheaded wizard to the boy's left glanced almost nervously at him, as though checking to see if he remained. The green eyed boy said nothing.

"No."

Ron's head shook a negative and he sighed heavily, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his palms. A deep, frustrated groan flew from his lips and he fought back tears, almost literally shaking.

"Love blows, Harry," Ron finally muttered bitterly. Harry laughed sardonically and nodded his agreement. A problem of the heart had been chewing at his own mind for the past few weeks, but he decided to put it aside until his best friend, who, coincidentally, was Harry's problem of the heart, was feeling a little less left in the dust.

"Sad, but true," he agreed. Harry bit back a term of endearment that he had been uttering mentally every time in the past fortnight that he had seen the hazel eyed beauty before him. He casually slung his arm across Ron's shoulders and tried his best to comfort him.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Harry," Ron sighed, slouching. There was a pause before he decided to rant about his issues. "I found out Catherine's been cheating on me." He sounded almost relieved, and Harry was briefly confused. He opened his mouth to comfort and Ron went on. "Oh, it gets better," he chuckled. "With my brother, no less. George," he nodded, seeing how Harry could be muddled in the possibilities.

"Ouch," Harry whispered. Ron sighed deeply and sank in posture, as though the building steam had been let out of his tea kettle. In a split second decision, Ron allowed his head to drop to Harry's shoulder, his face enfolded in the thick sweater. All at once, Ron realized why the revelation of his girlfriend's infidelity had not been so hard hitting. Harry's hand ran up and down Ron's upper arm to console him and Ron sighed. This sigh was not so much a despairing sigh as it was one of faint delight.

"Found them snogging in the halls."

Harry nodded blindly, hearing Ron but not recognizing the words as any classification of language. His every nerve focused on Ron's breath flowing through the loose knit sweater he wore. The heat seemed magnified on Harry's skin, and he continued the rhythmic stroking of the hazel eyed wizard.

Suddenly, the breath on Harry's arm seemed wet, and he soon realized that the heat was no longer solely air, but now was a mixture of hot tears and ragged sobs.

Ron wept not for his poor treatment by Catherine, but for his utter confusion and desperation of having what he now realized to be his only desire so very close but not being able to do anything about such a fact.

Harry quickly if not immediately swept Ron into a full embrace, thoroughly vehement about his consolation of the red haired boy that had tumbled so willingly into his lap. His voice came in hushing whispers and his arms fit smoothly around the younger wizard's heaving torso. Harry murmured a few thoughts on the assurance of better days ahead, and Ron violently shook his head.

"I don't care," Ron hiccoughed mid-sentence and continued to do so as he continued. "I don't ca-care about Catherine. I-I'm crying about-" Ron hiccoughed yet again and never bothered to complete his train of thought. Perhaps he thought better of the idea, or perhaps he was merely stopped by the interruption and never got the nerve to continue. Either way, Harry shushed him softly and instinctively kissed a hot, tear stained cheek.

"It's all right," he soothed gently, again pressing his lips to the warm, salty drops rushing down Ron's face. Then, abruptly and unexpectedly, Ron flung his arms around the green eyed boy's neck and turned his face, half to press his cheek feverishly against Harry's heart and half to surrender his fervent lips to those above him. Harry stared at the event as it unfolded on his chest and blinked frantically, not quite sure what to make of it. He slowly wet his mouth and suddenly realized that Ron was staring up at him, not exactly expectant, but not idly either. Harry's eyes locked on Ron's, and shocked, vivid green met mournful, murky hazel. Without any prior consent of his own, Harry found himself bowing his head. His eyes lidded heavily and his mouth met Ron's almost imperceptibly; a soft whisper of skin, the taste of his hot breath, and the furious flavor of his lips were the only true signs that contact had been achieved.

"Blimey," Harry whispered as they separated gently. Ron blinked before chuckling slightly. Any tension he had been holding left him entirely, and he went nearly limp in Harry's arms.

"Maybe love doesn't blow as much as I'd thought, Harry," Ron whispered quietly, rubbing his cheek against Harry's soft sweater.

"Yeah, maybe not."