"This is the matching service you ought to use if you like…" she had paused, putting a finger to her chin. "Unconventional sex."
Harry had put a tab in the idea, but he hadn't fully committed to it at that moment. After his disaster of a date at the Yule Ball, the idea became increasingly appealing.
As a misfit, he mused. I might fit right in with those who enjoy unconventional sex.
"Harry?" Ron asked, his nose wrinkling in horror.
"Ron," Harry returned in a tone of amazement. "This isn't how I thought this would go."
" No ." Ron swiveled on his hips, hands clenched in his hair. "This can't be happening."
They looked at each other's shoes.
"Aren't you-"
"Do you-"
Harry gestured. "You can go first, Ron."
"No," Ron cleared his throat. "No, you."
"Aren't you, well." Harry picked at a loose thread from his scarf. "Curious?"
Ron brushed a small dusting of snow from his hair. "A little."
Harry felt like he had already plunged from the cliffside the moment his name had flown from the Goblet of Fire. In other words, his trajectory had set and locked a long, long time ago.
"It might be better to have the first time with someone familiar. You can trust me to tell you when to stop."
"Promise?" Ron held out his pinkie.
"That's so childish," Harry laughed. He hooked his pinkie around Ron's. "Deal."
They booked the hotel room without incident. The owner didn't seem surprised to find two students checking into a room on a weekend evening during the winter holiday.
Once in the room with the door securely locked, Harry and Ron shuffled around the room in silence, tossing their outerwear onto the furniture scattered around their room.
Their awkward busy-bodyness ended with one on either side of the queen bed.
"So," Harry looked at the bedpost next to Ron's right side. "Shall we give ourselves a "lights, camera, action?" I'm not quite sure how to start. I've only picked up bits from the seventh and eighth-years."
"Me as well," Ron admitted. "Let's-" He turned, as though shocked by a sudden idea. "How about we blow out the candles? When it's dark, the act begins."
Harry nodded, encouraged. "Yes. I think that's good."
They both crept over to their respective nightstands, watching each other.
"Three?" Harry began.
Ron's eyes traveled all over Harry's face. "Two," he affirmed.
"One," Harry said, just above a whisper.
Sensing each other's inhale, they blew out the candles in unison. The room became almost completely dark, but the curtain let in just a few slivers of moonlight and lamplight from outside.
"This is good," Harry observed, after a second or two.
Ron didn't reply for a moment, and Harry could barely detect the outline of his body, backlit with the window side of the room. "I wish you wouldn't speak," he said.
Harry's arm prickled with goosebumps.
"Harry?" Ron called out as a test. He'd picked up something from Fred and George after so many years.
Harry passed.
"You learn fast," Ron said, tone dripping with condescension. "But, I suppose that's not a surprise. You're the Chosen One. You're in the running for Eternal Glory. You ought to have something to show for all that, hm?"
Harry's cheeks felt hot. Why did he like hearing these things? He shook out his fingertips, desperate to release restless energy.
"Speaking of showing," Ron continued. "You need to undress. Now."
Harry did, making sure to rustle his robes loudly enough for Ron to hear.
"On the bed, Harry."
Harry obliged, and Ron climbed on shortly after. They were mostly sure they were seated facing each other.
"Take off my robes for me," Ron ordered.
Harry nodded, which Ron couldn't have seen, but acquiescing to Ron felt good. He reached forward tentatively, hands landing on the dip of Ron's elbow first. Slowly, his hands traveled to Ron's shoulders. He kept his touch light and ghostly. Ron should feel good, too. Tugging the collar down slowly, Harry snaked the robe off of Ron and tried to place it in a neat pile beside them.
"Thank you," Ron murmured. Harry brought his hands back to Ron's shoulders, giving them a light rub to show he'd listened.
However, this did not satisfy Ron. "Say, you're welcome, dammit. Don't be strange. God, everything about you is strange, Harry."
Harry truly didn't know what to do. He'd been ordered to stay silent, and, now, he'd been ordered to speak.
A second later, Harry gasped. A sharp, stinging pain radiated from his back. Ron had….pinched him?
"Say it. Don't be a fool."
Harry deliberated in his mind another few seconds, but was interrupted by another sting of pain, this time far more sour. His eyes watered. Ron had found one of his old bruises to pinch.
"You're welcome," Harry blurted.
Ron pinched the same area harder. "I asked you not to speak, but it's alright. I'll lift that order now."
"Thank you," Harry said quickly.
Ron's fingers traveled up Harry's back until they found the baby hairs at the back of Harry's neck. He twisted them like licorice sticks between his fingers.
"Hmmm," he pondered. "Should I pull on it?"
"Yes, please." Harry begged.
"Since you asked nicely, I won't," Ron laughed. "How's it feel, Golden Boy? To not have things drop in your lap?"
Ron pulled their heads closer together, until they could feel each other's breaths.
"Shall we?" Harry asked.
In reply, Ron tentatively leaned in for a kiss. He missed Harry's lips, and it landed on Harry's cheeks.
Ron laughed at himself. "We really are just school boys." He tried again, this time planting it on the corner of Harry's lip. Ultimately, Ron peppered each side of Harry's face with kisses before he paused, waiting. "Well?" He urged. "Ask for it."
Harry, eyes hot, teeth sunken into the inside of his cheek, asked. "Please, kiss me."
They both leaned in together, and they kissed shyly. Ron leaned in further, and Harry allowed his hands to get tangled in Ron's hair. Ron's thumb slid over Harry's cheekbone, and his whole body tensed. Harry quickly locked their pinkies, and Ron lit the candles within seconds.
"Harry?" Ron asked, horrified. "Are you alright?"
Harry sat up, wiping the wetness Ron had detected on his cheeks. "Yes, of course. Everything's been so much, lately, so I came here trying to lose my mind. I don't mean to ruin the fun."
"Maybe," Ron said quietly. "Losing your mind isn't the right thing for tonight?"
Harry dragged one of the pillows onto his lap. "Maybe. I didn't expect to feel so- I don't know. I really don't."
"We could-" Ron stumbled, patting around for his robes and tugging them on. His eyes didn't leave Harry's face. "We could talk? Charlie says that sometimes losing your mind can make it worse. You know- whatever it is. That you can't shake from your mind."
Harry picked at the pillowcase silently, failing to will himself to look at Ron's face. He felt pathetic and cowardly.
"Or- well," Ron said sadly. "You don't have to." Trust is a breakable thing.
"I think you're right that I should talk." Harry chanced a look up. He was surprised that Ron's face didn't show any irritation or impatience. "I- well-"
"Ah!" Ron exclaimed suddenly. "Your robes." He leaned over on his stomach to retrieve Harry's robes from the floor. "Here," he said with his customary sheepish, crooked smile.
"Thanks," Harry smiled. He tugged them on, and they both settled across from each other on the bed, Harry facing away from the headboard. It's nice how thoughtless friendship can be , Harry considered. All those other things you have to think about with other people, like where to sit, I don't have to think about with Ron.
"If you're okay to talk, then," Ron cleared his throat. "I'm okay to listen."
Harry saw himself in the way Ron relaxed. He knew his relief made Ron happy in some way. Encouraged by the light in Ron's eyes, Harry opened his mouth, "I felt safe."
"Yeah?" Ron asked, and he sounded no different than how he sounded when Harry talked to him at breakfast. But they were not just talking at breakfast, and that felt really good.
"I knew I could trust you." Harry let a smile flicker on his face. "I hadn't felt that before. I can trust the adults, I'm sure, but it's not the same. I think it's different because. Well."
Ron gaped. He pointed to himself. "You trust me, still?" He looked away. "It's nice, you know? Also, scary."
"Really, I trust you, Ron." The expression on Harry's face was gingerly. "I didn't know it would feel so good. Now, I'm sadder than before, but I'd never take this back."
Ron smiled. "Me too."
They stopped talking, listening to the candle burn quietly in the background.
Harry's body leaned toward Ron's almost passively, like breathing. He had no specific intention behind moving closer, and he was aware of the movement but not surprised by it. Nonetheless, it was important. "Afterwards, I think we're supposed to relax. We didn't do much, I guess, so it's probably not necessary. Since we're here, though, I thought we might need something to do."
Ron puckered his lips with a teasing gleam in his eyes. "Yeah? What do you have in mind?" The color of his eyes deepened with his tone, now speaking more seriously. "In any case, you're right. We ought to do this properly."
Harry thought, driving himself crazy. It's so simple, yet this promise contained in Ron's common question could mute the sensation of even the ever-present prickle of being watched, by people who liked him, by people who didn't like him, and that scary thing waiting in the dark.
"Are you cold? Do you want to take a shower?" Ron patted Harry's knee. "I'll wash your hair."
"Let's go," Harry announced with a smile, dragging Ron over. It's embarrassing to be so forward about what he likes, but that's what it's about, isn't it? Being too forward.
Harry and Ron tripped over each other on the way to the bathroom. They'd both tried to fit through the doorway at the same time, and it was funny to try to fit through it anyway and struggle and push each other over on purpose on the way in. It was both staged and spontaneous.
"I-" Ron stuttered because his brain needed a moment to soak in the words before he said them out loud. They were standing in the shower, and it felt necessary to say his piece immediately, while honesty was still easy to come by. "I liked the part when I kissed you better."
"Oh?" Harry looked at Ron hopefully, and as sweet as that gaze was, and as sweet as it made Ron feel inside, he also felt like shit precisely because of what hope implied.
And Ron wasn't good at providing reassurance. He wasn't sure how. Nobody had taught him how. Whenever he'd had a concern, it was always just 'oh, you'll be fine.' Or, 'look at your brother, he's survived so much, you can take it.' Luckily, though, tonight, something was carrying him above that swirling whirlpool, above the clouds. He could hardly even see the thing anymore.
"Yeah," Ron sniffled, head knocking against the shower tile. "I'm so sorry." Hastily, he ripped the tears leaking from his eyes off of his cheeks.
Harry’s expression darkened as he pulled the handle to the faucet, and the showerhead sputtered. A cylinder of droplets arced to the tiles.
“We’re both way in over our heads. No one is coming. You can’t help that. Neither can I.”
“I can help that,” Ron argued. He knew he was wrong. Hearing Harry’s preparatory inhale for the next depressing comment, he grasped a travel-size shampoo bottle from the ledge in the wall and aggressively shook a glop into his palm. “Alright. Don’t lose your mind. You need to use it to remember. Remember this night. It’s as real as the night your name flew out of that stupid goblet and the afternoon Rita Skeeter asked for a stupid interview and the morning we stopped talking because I’m a stupid shit. I’ll start with the hair, now.”
Harry was silent, until he spoke a comment that seemed to come from nowhere at all. “They shaved my head after I moved in. So it seems in the pictures.”
Ron privately thought, trying and failing to untangle his fingers from the thicket growing out of Harry’s head: That was very effective. Then, he realized. He suffered from a bout of speechlessness, but that was fine because Harry had more to say.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t lose my mind. It’s best not to forget. You liked the part when you kissed me better.”
Ron smiled satirically at himself. Why, if he isn’t the soul reincarnated of Byron himself? “Right. But I like all of the parts of my life that I spend with you.”
“You must’ve taken that from Shakespeare.”
“Byron, actually.”
Harry snorted. “I’ll remember that.”