Best Friend Dilemma

Title: Best Friend Dilemma
Author: nanthimus
Rating: I don't know. PG/PG-13
Pairing: ....Harry/Ron....
Warnings: Nothing really. Just some fluffy, non-angsty, non-smutty...stuff. Well, there's slash, but does that really need a warning here? ;)
Disclaimer: Oh, I own none of this. You know that.
Inspired by cassiopeia13, who displayed a yearning for HP/RW. Damn her.



The room was quiet. Its normal business made the hush seem almost creepy. Most of the students were gone for Christmas break. A few lingered, either studying or gossiping with friends. It was completely silent to two figures on the far left.

Best friends Ron and Harry sat, locked in silent combat. Neither moved, breathing shallowly as they waited for the next move. The moment was tense, each boy nearly jumping with nervous excitement. Ron's hand shot out suddenly, and Harry flinched.

"Check mate!" Ron cried triumphantly, catching a moments worth of attention from the few other students before they went about their own business.

Harry moaned, looking at the chess board in disappointment. "Not fair! You cheated or something," he accused the red head.

"Nope, mate, it's a little thing called talent," Ron replied, grinning to show he was only teasing.

"Yeah, okay," Harry got up, getting his bag. "Let's go up, I'm getting tired."

Ron looked up at Harry before standing up as well; that put him at nearly four inches taller than the dark hared boy, which frustrated Harry to no end.

"Just because you want to go to bed doesn't mean I do," Ron informed Harry, packing up his chessboard. "What makes you think I don't want to stay down here and talk to anyone?"

Harry looked around. "Ron, everyone else is going to bed, too," Harry reasoned, "Do you want to stay down here by yourself?"

Ron turned red slightly. "Well no...but I don't want to go up either," he mumbled, fiddling with the chessboard.

Harry stared at him for a moment, before shrugging. "Okay, fine," he said, "See you in the morning."

Ron watched Harry as he left, before slumping in his seat, staring off into the darkness. "Great job, Weasley," he muttered to himself. He knew he'd hurt Harry's feelings, especially in the past few days. He'd been distant, staying further away from Harry, not spending as much time with him.

Ron didn't want to hurt Harry. He was his best friend! He enjoyed hanging out, lazing around with the dark haired boy. Maybe a little too much.

Ron groaned and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. It started in fifth year. He began noticing more things about Harry. He began noticing more things about Harry. The way his eyes widened when he was excited, the way he grinned. The way his cheeks flushed when he was embarrassed; the way his lips moved when he talked....the way he smelled...

"Gah!" Ron squirmed. It only got worse during the summer while he and Harry were separated. Since Harry wasn't constantly around, Ron's memories of him manifested into dreams, painting pictures of Harry as Ron had never seen.

Harry, on his bed, naked. Looking up at Ron with heavy-lidded eyes. His mouth opening, a pink tongue flicking out to wet soft lips. How he knew they were soft, Ron didn't know. He just knew.

When sixth year finally started and Ron saw Harry on the bus, he was very nearly overwhelmed. Harry, just as short and skinny as ever, was one of the most beautiful things Ron had ever seen. Only the presence of Hermione kept him from taking Harry in his arms and doing to him all the things Ron had imagined.

But now, during Christmas break...Ron shook his head. Now there was no Hermione. Just Harry and him, alone for the most part. Ron shuddered. A mixed blessing, that. Being able to gaze at his friend, without having to worry about anyone else seeing him staring at Harry like that. But at the same time, trying to shield his friend from his ever growing urges to...to...Whatever,’ Ron thought, flushing and thankful no one was around to see.

Ron glanced at his watch. "Good....maybe Harry'll be asleep." He hated the fact that he was hurting Harry but Ron didn't see any other way around it. He didn't think his feelings would change any time soon, and he didn't want to take the chance of doing something embarrassing. 'Or dangerous,’ Ron thought of his stronger urges. Picking up his chessboard, he headed up to his room.

Opening the door slowly, quietly, Ron slipped into the room. Sliding the chessboard under his bed, he changed into his pajamas quickly, all the while watching for movement in Harry's bed. Though he had to keep himself from lingering on the curves and angles. At the naked thigh coming from underneath the sheets. Ron swallowed and turned away quickly, slipping under his own covers, squeezing his eyes shut. But the sight of that thigh was imprinted on his mind. What he wouldn't give to have the courage to go over there and-

"Ron?" A whisper. Ron's eyes popped open and he stared at the wall, unseeing. Hardness pressed against his inner thigh, and Ron groaned. 'Perfect time to get a hard on!' He wailed in his mind.

"Ron, are you awake?" That so-soft whisper, and Ron couldn't take it. He rolled over and looked at Harry and...oh. Harry was sitting up in bed and...

'Oh my God, he doesn't have a shirt on! a little voice in Ron's head shrieked and Ron was thankful for the shadows on his side of the room as his gaze skimmed Harry's body, unwilling but greedy. And that thigh.

'And you know what that means?! No pants, no pants, you've got a nearly naked Harry in front of you with no shirt, no pants, no- Ron ignored the little voice, and his mouth went on auto-pilot.

"What's up, Harry?"

Harry bit his lip, silent for a moment and he looked at Ron uncertainly. Ron could feel himself begin to sweat.

"We're...we're still friends, right?" Ron couldn't keep the surprised off his face; Harry must have noticed, because he continued on quickly.

“I mean, you’ve been really distant lately and blowing me off, and I just want to know what’s going on and why you’re mad at m-”

Ron interrupted. “Mad...at you?” Incredulous.

Harry continued as if Ron hadn’t spoken, “because I’d understand really, I wouldn’t want to be friends with me either, it must be really annoying, Famous Harry Potter and all and...” Harry paused, taking a deep breath to continue on his diatribe, and Ron took this to his advantage. Taking his chances, and willing his erection away, Ron got up and padded over to Harry’s bed. He sat in the edge of it, staring at Harry. Who stared back. Unblinking.

“Harry, I’m not mad at you,” Ron began, holding up his hand to stem anything further from Harry. “No, let me finish. I’m not mad at you, I’ve just got...something’s on my mind, is all. You haven’t done anything wrong.” Except by being way to beautiful for your own good, Ron though wryly.

Harry shook his head. “But I can help you,” he said, “Come on, since we’re best friends, tell me what’s wrong!” Where moments ago there was an apprehensive little boy, there was now a mischievous imp. “Come on tell me. If it was anything really dangerous you would have told me by now.”

Ron squirmed; it was funny when this curious!Harry was unleashed on other people; when you’re the one he was turned on it was unnerving, to say the least. Ron decided to tell a half-truth.

“Well...there’s this person,” He began awkwardly, “and...I kinda like them, but they don’t like me.”

Harry thought for a moment. “But...what has this got to do with me?” He pointed out. “They don’t like me, do they?”

The very idea of someone with ‘his’ Harry caused Ron to tense up. “No,” he said stiffly, “They don’t. But...I don’t want to talk about it.”

Silence. Then...

“Ron...this person wouldn’t happen to be....it wouldn’t be me, would it?” Awkward, cautious, and Ron stared at the beautiful dark-haired boy, who was looking back at him with embarrassment tingeing his face.

“Wh...you, haha, good one, Harry,” Ron joked weakly, seeing at once that Harry wasn’t fooled. Ron wrapped his arms around his middle, hating himself.

“How’d you guess?” May as well know what gave him away, what caused his downfall.

“Well...you weren’t exactly hiding it well, Ron,” Harry said, “Come sit down. It’s okay, really.”

Ron sat, looking at Harry face to face. ‘Figures, he’d look good even when mortified,’ Ron thought bitterly.

“Really,...it’s okay. I’m not mad or anything!” Harry said, trying to soothe the red-head.

Ron studied Harry. While embarrassment was obvious, there didn’t seem to be any anger on his face. In fact...there seemed to be a flicker of pleasure in Harry’s eyes. Embolden, Ron scooted a bit closer.

“Really? You’re not mad?” Even with his blush, Ron stared at Harry with an intensity that was almost frightening. “Have you ever thought about it?” Low, with a bit of a husk at the end.

Harry squirmed. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely, and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I have.”

Slowly, Ron lifted his hand and rested it at the back of Harry’s head, fingers sinking into the messy hair. Ron drew Harry’s head closer, and kissed him softly. At the lack of protestation from the scarred boy, Ron sealed his mouth of Harry’s. His tongue flicked out and licked the dark haired boy’s, once, twice, three times before he drew away, frightening at the feelings swirling inside himself. He couldn’t help smiling at the picture Harry made; head thrown back, eyes shut, lips moist. Ron wanted to pounce, and take Harry, then and there. He knew, though, that now wasn’t really the time. Neither of them knew what they were doing, and Harry probably didn’t really know what he wanted.

Pleased by this sudden insightfulness, Ron whispered to Harry, “Let’s talk in the morning.” At Harry’s nod, Ron got up and slipped into his own bed.

Silence.

“G’night, Harry.”

“G’night Ron.” Ron grinned in his pillow and closed his eyes. Tomorrow was shaping up to be a great day.
End



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