He Dances With the Daffodils

He Dances With the Daffodils

The trail is long and winding and Ron finds that he keeps stumbling over small twigs and pebbles. Harry walks steadily ahead of him, looking over his shoulder occasionally to make sure Ron is still there. He smiles and encourages the redhead. Ron stumbles every time Harry smiles.

The trail leads down into a valley full of wildflowers, dotted with the odd tree. Ron still stumbles along behind Harry despite the wide path they walk. "Still coming, Ron?" Harry asks.

"Right behind you, Harry," Ron answers. As they near the middle of the valley Ron shouts ahead at the dark-haired boy. "Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry stops walking and turns to Ron.

"Where are we going?"

Harry smiles. "I can't tell you that."

Ron makes a whining noise. "Why not?"

"Because I can't," Harry laughs. "You'll see when we get there." Ron whines more as they continue along.

As the path begins to wind through the valley, Ron starts to notice how wonderfully breathtaking it is. He doesn't even notice Harry has stopped until he is crashing into him. Harry smiles. Ron stumbles. Ron stares at Harry dumbfounded for a few seconds. "What?" he finally asks.

"This way," Harry says, and takes Ron by the hand. Ron doesn't stumble as Harry leads him through the wildflowers toward a tree in the distance. Harry tugs on Ron's hand every few minutes or so, but Ron never stumbles. When Harry's touching him he feels like he can stand still during an earthquake.

The tree in question sits beside a lake. Ron hasn't noticed when the wildflowers have become daffodils. They are everywhere. It is all Ron can do to not tread on them. "The flowers are beautiful."

"You fit right in," Harry says. Ron feels the heat rise in his cheeks and smiles so brilliantly it hurts. In a flashing moment with a yellow backdrop Harry leans forward and kisses Ron. They fall to the ground in a heap, Ron giggling like a schoolgirl and Harry right there with him. Ron bites Harry's lip gently and feels euphoric. He wonders if Harry has spiked his lips with some kind of drug.

They make their own beauty as the lay in the field of daffodils. Lips venture to sensitive skin and noses collide as grunts of air leave them. Skin slides against skin. Ron's heart aches from the overwhelming feelings seeping from his eyes. He knows he's crying and he doesn't care.

He has an ear to Harry's breast in the end. His breathing falls in the same rhythm of Harry's heartbeat. It's only right that they are in such sync. "Harry?" he asks.

"Hmm?"

"It's so beautiful here."

"I thought so."

"How did you know it was here?"

"Easy. It jumped off the page."

"Huh?" Ron looks up at Harry, resting his chin in the cleft of Harry's chest.

"I read it once. In a poem." Harry smiles and begins to recite.

"I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed - and gazed - but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils."

Ron moves forward, placing his lips on Harry's. "I wish I could stay here forever."

"I wish you could, too."

They stand at a fork in the road. Behind them the lake dances and the tree bows. Harry plucks a daffodil from the ground and presses it into Ron's hand. "It's time to go back now." He points to the right fork. "That way leads home."

"Aren't you coming, Harry?"

"This is where I belong now, Ron. I'm at my journey's end."

Ron stares at Harry confused. Their hands are still clasped. Ron can still feel where Harry's lips violated his skin. "I can't leave you here."

Harry takes Ron's face in his hands. He kisses Ron and then whispers to him, "There are still miles to go before you sleep. And I'll still be here when you're ready. The daffodils are always in bloom. The sun always shines. You're always the most beautiful thing around." Ron is crying again and he still doesn't care.

"Harry," he breathes and Harry silences him with a thumb, his hands still holding Ron's face. He glances down at Ron's lips before closing his eyes and kissing them.

"Your journey has just begun," Ron hears as his eyes flutter open. There is a world around him that is harsh and cold.

"Ron! You're awake!" Hermione is there, gripping his hand.

"Harry?" he asks as if it's the only word he knows.

Tears stain Hermione's cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Ron. I'm so sorry."