Prince Pleasant

"Ron, are you okay?" Harry asked, his voice filled with concern. A shifting of cushions and a faint aroma of sweat and broom polish informed Ron that his friend had taken a seat next to him on the couch.

"What do you mean?"

"It's just... you look really pensive. You're usually pretty cheerful when you come back from a date with Hermione."

"We broke up."

"Oh," Harry said quietly. "I'm so sorry, Ron..."

"Don't be," Ron said, cutting him off. "The decision was mutual. There just... wasn't any spark there. We like each other a lot, but when we kissed it felt... weird. And the time we tried petting was just so awkward... We were just meant to be friends, I guess."

"So you're okay?"

"I'll live."

"And Hermione?"

"With Dean."

"What's she doing with... Oh."

"That was the catalyst. I caught her snogging with him the other day--pretty intensely, too. Hermione swore it was a one-time thing, but she never showed that kind of passion with me. The weird thing was, I didn't feel jealous at all. Just... kind of glad for her."

"I think I can understand that. Sort of."

Ron leaned back in the couch and glanced over at his friend. Harry was staring into the fire, his expression mirroring the one Ron had worn just a few moments ago. "So, how'd it go with Justin?" the redhead asked.

"We broke up."

"But I thought..."

"I got there early and found him snogging Blaise Zabini."

A moment passed, and then Ron clenched his fist. "I'll kill him," he announced, and started to stand, but Harry grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down.

"Ron, please... it's all right. Kind of like with you."

"Really..?"

Harry leaned over, laying his head on the well-pillowed arm of the couch without taking his eyes off the fire. He sighed, then asked, "Do you know the story of Cinderella?"

"Sure. Everyone knows it. Why?"

"The Dursleys never read me bedtime stories, but I used to steal Dudley's old fairy tale picture books. I taught myself to read before he learned his letters. Cinderella was my favorite."

"I can imagine why, the way they treated you," Ron growled.

Harry paid the comment no heed, and continued, "I used to dream that something like that would happen to me. I imagined some Prince Charming would come riding up to the house on a great white stallion, and that his noble knights would fend off Vernon and Dudley while the prince swept me into his arms and carried me away. Sometimes, I'd even try to imagine what I'd say to him as he rescued me from my relatives."

"Well, I think we've definitely found the point where you went gay," Ron commented, grinning. "Fairy tale, indeed."

Harry took a mock swing at Ron, a slight smile dancing around the corners of his lips. His expression slid quickly into its former pensive state, however, and he said, "I suppose I'm still looking for that to happen. I kind of... I guess I want a guy like that. One who can sweep me off my feet romantically, but... somebody who's strong enough to rescue me if I need it, to carry me... Because sometimes, I just feel like I can't do everything everybody expects of me." He worried his lower lip with his teeth for a moment, then added, "Justin wasn't like that. Oh, he could do the romance part all right, but he wasn't strong enough, or dependable enough... I really wasn't surprised he cheated on me."

"That doesn't give him the right."

"I guess not. Men are pigs."

"Not all men," Ron protested. "You're not."

Harry shrugged, saying, "You're not either." He paused. "Well, not most of the time. You were a bit of a pig fourth year, right before the ball."

"Well, Eloise Midgen's nose is off center."

"That's true enough, I suppose," Harry admitted. He grinned briefly, but the pensive look came back almost right away, and he curled up slightly, as if he was cold.

"Your nose isn't off-center," Ron supplied helpfully. Indeed, he admitted to himself, Harry had a number of good qualities besides a well-centered nose. He had a handsome face and wonderful green eyes, not to mention a compact, well-built body. Ron wondered why he'd never really paid attention to any of these features before--after all, he'd definitely noticed when Neville lost the last of his puppy fat and become a brunette Adonis fifth year. It had come to nothing, since Neville was strictly interested in the ladies (Ginny, to be precise), but Ron had enjoyed several very interesting dreams nonetheless. All his more attractive classmates had caught Ron's eye, but somehow he'd been blind to the fact that his best friend had left his childish cuteness behind and become devastatingly handsome. Finch-Fletchley was an idiot.

The corner of Harry's mouth twitched up again. "Does that mean I'm on your short list of snoggable students?" he asked.

"Maybe," Ron said, and before he could convince himself not to, he stretched out across Harry's body and kissed him full on the lips. He intended to give a quick peck, more a joke than anything else.

It lasted one second.

It lasted five seconds.

It skipped ten seconds and went straight on to thirty.

"Oh," Harry said huskily when the kiss ended. "Wow."

Ron realized that he was still stretched out on top of Harry. Feeling awkward, he pushed himself away and sat up. He decided that this too was unsatisfactory, so he grabbed Harry and pulled the smaller boy into his lap. Harry made no move to get away, only shifting a little so that his head rested comfortably against Ron's shoulder. Now the situation was almost perfect, but something was still missing.

Harry sat up a little and kissed Ron again, adding the last piece of the puzzle. Thirty seconds got left in the dust as the kiss roared on towards two minutes. Harry parted his lips slightly and Ron took the invitation to go exploring. Harry's mouth tasted like mint toothpaste and strong tea, and it rang with the sound of soft moans. Harry's tongue coaxed Ron's forward, guiding it along the ridges of white teeth and crevices of red flesh.

When he finally pulled away, Harry's pupils were dilated, and he collapsed breathlessly against Ron's shoulder. The redhead tightened the hug he hadn't even realized he'd been giving Harry and ran one hand soothingly up and down the smaller boy's back. "Oh," Ron whispered, smiling stupidly as he tried to catch his own breath. "Wow."

"You did come rescue me once," Harry murmured almost a minute later, when the boys were no longer breathing like they had just run a marathon.

"Only... I rode a flying Ford Anglia instead of a white stallion."

"And your knights were more insane than noble."

"I'm not sure I swept you off your feet, either," Ron admitted.

Harry snaked his arms around Ron's chest and gave him a hug. "You did," he replied, "Just now."

"I'm not really all that 'charming', though," Ron said, moving his hand from Harry's back to his messy black hair. He massaged the shorter boy's scalp as he continued, "I'm also definitely not a prince."

"Yes you are," Harry said, kissing the spot where Ron's jaw met his neck. "You're noble, and kind, and you're always sticking up for me--even when I don't want to stick up for myself. You're my prince."

"And you're a sap," Ron replied, kissing Harry's forehead just next to his scar. "My sap," he added quietly, again tightening the arm that he'd wrapped around Harry's narrow chest. "I mean that about not being charming, though," he said.

"You do all right... when your temper's not too bad. You're... pleasant."

"Prince Pleasant, huh? Doesn't exactly have the same ring to it."

"Who cares?" Harry replied. "Prince Charming is just a fairy tale. You're real."

"Think we can live happily ever after anyway?" Ron asked.

"We can try," Harry said, and kissed him once more.

Two minutes packed up and left for vacation long before the kiss ended.