Protection

Protection.

"So, you've never done this before, right?"

"No, Ron."

"And it's completely safe, right?"

"Yes, Ron."

"I mean, there's no risk of... of, you know, losing anything, right?"

"Look, mate, it's not as safe as what you've been doing--which is nothing--but if you do it right I'm sure you'll manage to keep most of your appendages.

"Sod off, Harry. You know I haven't the foggiest about these muggle contraptions."

"Yeah, but do you have to be such an old lady about it?"

Ron presented Harry with his middle finger and continued to peruse the massive display. There were big ones and little ones. Middle of the road ones. Glow in the dark ones and ones made of... sheep? Ron didn't know what the hell a com-done was but Hermione had insisted they both needed them if either of them hoped to... to... well, you know. Apparently, "No girl in her right mind would do it without one!" And Ron definitely wanted 'it' to be done 'to' him.

Harry had insisted they shop for the bloody things together. Why Harry couldn't just pick some up for the both of them Ron didn't know. But he was sure that's exactly what his best mate should have done--instead of dragging him around this silly muggle shop. Who ever heard of strapping a sheet of plastic to your naughty bits, anyway? Sounded downright kinky to Ron. Like something Malfoy would do.

"Harry, we need to talk."

Harry turned slowly to face Ron. He had been dreading this for so long. Avoiding the moment when he would tell him. Now was as good a time as any, a perfect time considering the venue, but he just couldn't. Harry just knew Ron would kill him. Or faint. Or both. No, at the very least, he'd tell him when they were both seated. Or drunk. Or both. Definitely both.

"Right, Ron, let's talk over breakfast, eh? I'm a little too distracted right now. Here, take these." Harry flashed an insolent grin and handed Ron a small purple box. "They're ribbed... for her pleasure."

"Oi! These are petite. Cheeky bastard. Hand over the large."

Harry gave Ron an appraising glance.

"I'd like a bit of what you're smoking, mate."

Ron drew his lips into a tight knot. Lips white and barely visible. Left hand imploring.

"Harry."

Harry would not budge.

"Right. Medium, then," he managed to grind through clenched teeth. Harry took the box of petites from his hand and replaced it with regulars.

"Don't be such a Sour Susan," Harry replied and, with a wry grin, added, "These ones have pleasure nubs."

Ron marched silently and petulantly to the front of the shop to purchase these odd. . . corn-dims. As the two left the store, they made plans to meet up for breakfast, but Ron's face still bore the marks of a bruised ego.

"You know your face is going to freeze like that. We're magic. It could happen."

Ron gave Harry a withering look before turning to leave. Harry wasn't the only one with a hot date that night. Effing boy-who-lived. Regular, indeed. Ron opened his goody bag as he turned the corner and wondered how the muggles managed to get these things to taste like strawberries.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ron stood at the front door waiting. Just. Waiting. The bloody nerve! Making him wait--Ron checked his watch--three whole minutes to be let in. He'd even been forced to apparate outside of the house. What sort of cheek was that? "Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise would you?" Merlin, he had to be saddled with this one.

He checked his watch again. It must be broken, he thought to himself, the minute hand has barely moved. He cursed under his breath as he wiped clammy hands on the front of his jumper. It wasn't as if he was nervous or anything. So he'd never... well, you know, with another... well, you know. He was fine. Really. He just didn't see why he had to wait a whole--Ron checked his watch, again--four minutes for this bloody--

Ron turned sharply as he heard the familiar pop of someone apparating behind him. Harry walked up beside him with a look of puzzlement--or was that horror--etched across his face. Ron was utterly gobsmacked. Completely flummoxed. And Harry, well, it appeared that he'd gone retarded.

"You... You... You..." Harry managed to hyperventilate in Ron's direction.

"But you... I thought... Merciful Minerva, Harry!" Ron conjured a paper bag and thrust it into Harry's quivering hands. Harry buried his face in the sack and Ron glimpsed a tear rolling down the side of Harry's face, which by now was a violent shade of red.

Hang on. Was Harry. . . laughing?

As if on cue, the large and ornate oak door swung open. Draco Malfoy stood holding up a large carton of condoms, grinning madly.

"Gentlemen, so glad you could come... and if you haven't guessed by now, you're both gay."