Date Interrupted

Date Interrupted

The general raucous pub noises blend into the background as I stumble towards the fireplace, jarring tables and people and drinks along the way, though I hardly even notice. The noises fill my ears so I don't know if I properly slur the name of the first destination that comes to mind or if it comes out as drunken babble. Hopefully the floo network won't deposit me anywhere dangerous, but then it isn't likely that I'd notice in my current state of mind anyway. Not but a long moment later, after the dizzy swirling sensation sickens me nearly to vomiting, I find myself propelled out of a fireplace and painfully deposited spread-eagle on my back in the middle of a familiarly homey living room.

"Oh dear," a strange, feminine voice comments dryly. That isn't the voice I'm expecting to hear but it doesn't look like I'm in the wrong place. It looks the same as the last hundred thousand times I was here, though I can't much be bothered to lift my head for a better look simply for the sake of the stranger. The amount of alcohol in my system is much too high for me to be wasting energy concentrating on trivial things like strangers.

"Uh, Harry?"

Now there's the voice I'm looking for. With great effort, and a goofy smile, I turn my head to the side and struggle to sit up.

"I didn't think you'd have company..." I mumble, lying deliberately and trying hard to focus on the two shapes in front of me. I get shakily to my feet and lurch to the side immediately before Ron steps forward to catch me. He holds me up and gives me a wildly amused look before turning to his guest and shrugging apologetically.

"Look, maybe we could do this another time. I think he needs some help."

"Fine. Owl me later," a haughty female voice snaps but Ron just nods and turns his attention back to me before she's even out the door. I'd always be the most important person to him and I knew that. Just like he knew he was my most important person, thanks largely to a certain underwater Triwizard Tournament task. But even despite that, we were best mates and we always put each other first.

"You're drunk," Ron says, nearly giggling.

"I'm not!" I protest. "Just a little knackered."

"Yeah?" Ron says and begins to step away from me.

I centre my gravity and am determined to stay upright. Of course I lose my balance and throw a leg out to catch myself but Ron steps back in and wraps his arms around me as soon as it becomes obvious that I'm headed for the floor again. I notice the feeling of his chest against mine and his arms around me and the tickle of his messy red hair against my cheek.

"You smell very good right now," I notice and when Ron laughs I can feel his breath against my ear.

"Yes well, I was on a date until you showed up."

"Oh. Sorry Ron."

"Don't worry about it, she was just a girl. Besides, where would you have gone if I'd thrown you out?" She was just a girl. She was nothing compared to me.

"Oh... Hermione's? Or maybe Fred and George's. But you know I'd rather be here with you," I mumble. I lean back and turn my head to face Ron so I can look him in the eye but thanks to my current state of mind I misjudge the distance between us and accidentally brush my lips along his jaw line in the process. Or maybe it wasn't so accidental. The soft stubble of his chin gives me shivers and I feel my hand involuntarily move to rest on Ron's hip.

"Harry..."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." I laugh, smiling lopsidedly and ducking my head to hide my blush. Ron sighs and I boldly slide my hand from his hip to the small of his back.

"Harry," Ron protests, "you're drunk." He places his own hand on top of mine and lifts it off his back. "Maybe you should go lie down, or take a cold shower or something." He takes a step away from me while trying hard to hide his own bashful smile and I rest my hand on the couch for balance.

"I don't need a cold shower, Ron," I snort, "and I'm definitely not tired."

I let go of the couch to put my hands on either side of my head; the room just won't stop spinning. It is a nice room, though. I love Ron's flat. It's so warm and welcoming, the whole place is like his old room at the Burrow. My own flat is bare and plain and looks unlived in. Well, that's probably because I spend most of my time here at Ron's.

"Easy there, mate," Ron says, putting a hand on my shoulder as I begin to sway.

"I'm fine, Ron," I say and try to take a step forward. Instantly Ron's arms are around me once more after I yet again nearly fall over. It's a good chance for me to bury my face in his neck, so I do just that. The soft skin smells so familiar, like Ron has always smelled; boyish. Sort of like sweat and cologne and soap and something else that belongs exclusively to Ron. I snake my arms around his waist and hook my thumbs into his back belt loops. He's taken to wearing muggle jeans lately, and the look suits him.

"Harry, you aren't thinking straight. Come on mate, this isn't a good idea..." Ron whines reluctantly, plaintive and pleading and protesting.

He doesn't mean it though, because I know he wants to. He's always wanted to, he just thought I didn't. In my own defence, I had until recently held the same daft opinion. Well, this is the perfect opportunity to show him I've seen the error of my ways. I move suddenly and kiss him firmly on the lips. He makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat and gently pushes me away, leaning me on the couch for balance.

"Don't. You'll regret it in the morning. And besides, things would just get weird between us. You can't be the same sort of friends after you get drunk and screw around," he informs me.

"Then cast a sobrietus charm on me."

"What?" he says after a quiet moment of carefully considering my statement. I grin to myself. Trust Ron to always think up the deepest, most eloquent single-syllable answers. Or questions. Whatever. I clear my throat and speak as clearly as I can, knowing my words will still slur together anyway.

"I said, then cast a sobrietus charm on me. We can screw around while sober."

"Harry, you don't know what you're saying..."

"I do! I'm drunk, Ron, not delusional or stupid. There's a reason muggle teens call alcohol 'liquid courage'. I just needed a little to get the ball rolling," I say firmly.

"Harry you prat, we call it liquid courage too. It isn't just a muggle thing," Ron laughs and I grin at him.

"Stop avoiding the subject."

"I have a better idea," he says nervously. "Instead of making you sober, why don't I get drunk too? At least then we're on equal footing."

So we sit in the kitchen and make easy conversation while Ron does a few quick firewhisky shots. After about half an hour his laughter starts getting louder and his cheeks start getting redder and his eyes dance dizzyingly and I know he's just about as gone as me. I lean forward and take a fast swig right out of the bottle and then kiss him as soon as I've swallowed it. His mouth tastes like firewhisky and something sweet. It tastes red. If I ever have to describe to a blind man what red is like, I'll send him to kiss Ron, because that's exactly what red is like. Fiery and passionate and strong and stable and loveable all at once.

He makes a surprised sound into my mouth but we both start laughing and I fall onto the floor. This seems to be a recurring event. I'd been leaning precariously across the table and my balance hadn't held when my vision started to swim from the effects of his kiss. He drops onto his knees beside me and looks down at me in concern.

"I'm fine, Ron..." I start, knowing that worried look anywhere.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Harry, are you really sure?" Ron asks desperately.

I look up at him from my position flat on my back on his kitchen floor. His eyes, his face, look so pure and innocent right now, never mind that he's drunk and clutching a nearly empty bottle of firewhisky asking another boy if he's sure about kissing him. His innocent face doesn't care about all that, it's stubbornly determined to remain innocent. And besides, I'm not another boy. I'm Harry Potter, his best mate in the world, and he's Ron Weasly, the one I'm sure is perfect for me even if I haven't told him that yet.

"I lied before. I knew you were on a date tonight. You shouldn't date people like Katy Villonet. She's a dirty whore who sleeps with anyone. She'll give you a bad reputation," I say seriously instead of answering him directly.

"You rotten liar!" Ron exclaims, and to any random passer by it would appear that he is defending the honour of his date. Of course, he meant my comment earlier about not knowing he had company because he'd never get worked up over a girl he went on a date with. He'd get worked up about me anytime, in fact he does quite often.

"I know, aren't I wicked?" I cackle, smiling.

"Why didn't you... I mean, why now? You knew, Harry, I know you knew."

"That you've fancied me for ages? Because I didn't know I fancied you until I was pissing to Seamus last week about your stupid date with 'Katy Cat' tonight and he yelled at me, want to know what he said? You'll love it..."

"Well, go on!"

"Okay, he said, 'Harry, you great tosser! If you aren't willing to date him it isn't his fault if he dates someone else! He's fancied you for ages but you can't expect him to wait around for you to figure it out, you're too dense for shit like that, he'll be waiting for years. If it bothers you so much then do something about it!'" I yell, imitating Seamus' tone quite well. "So I did something about it. I got right pissed and then came to put the moves on you."

"Why did my date with Katy bother you so much? I've been on loads of other dates," Ron says honestly. It was true, lord knows he's attractive, and his genuine excitement for things is really endearing. The girls love him. Me too. I love him.

"Because you're a virgin and I knew Katy would try to sleep with you," I mumble timidly. Ron snorts once and then shakes his head.

"You're too much, Harry Potter," he says, voice thick with amusement. Before I can reply he covers my mouth quickly and firmly with his own. It's clumsy and sweet and inexpert and endearingly earnest, but it's Ron. Oddly enough, that thought fills me with an inexplicable bubbling sort of happiness.

"You're absolutely everything else, Ronald Weasly," I reply softly.