This all seemed to make sense to Ron in the clear light of day. But alcohol did funny things to his head. It made him want to grab whoever was standing next to him and just... well, fuck their brains out, actually. It was a complete mystery to Ron, bird-loving bloke that he was, why it never mattered if that person was bloke or bird.
That was why he'd never gone to pubs with his friends before tonight.
He couldn't put them off any longer. The Gryffindor Five were absolutely determined to get smashed together to celebrate the anniversary of Voldemort's most timely demise, or so the rest of the Gryffindor Five had assured him.
So here he was, taking shots with his mates and beginning to get that pleasant haze that always made him feel happy. He knew he should stop drinking before he got to the stage where he started feeling horny, but he just couldn't ruin their night that way. Surely they'd at least ask some awkward questions, and Ron wasn't sure he wasn't drunk enough to give them awkward answers.
Seamus just kept ordering more drinks, so he kept drinking them.
He was at That Stage now. He was looking around at all of them in a, well a way you're not supposed to look at your friends.
Dean was pretty fit, as was Seamus, but they kept touching each other, looking at each other in that we-want-to-be-fucking-now kind of way. Neville was better looking than he had been which was a scary thought, but he was all the way across the booth. That was no good. Ron wasn't sure he had the coordination to get up.
And Harry... He was two seconds from jumping him right here in the middle of the crowded pub. Granted, he usually wanted to jump him but... now he was drunk enough that it seemed like he actually could. It seemed like a damn good idea. He knocked back another shot in preparation of leaning over and groping him but Harry was getting up, walking away...
Damn he had a nice arse. Now Ron was really horny.
Harry walked through the door of the loo out of sight. As he passed, a bloke across the bar met Ron's eye. Ron made a split second decision to get up and go over.
Luckily the bloke wasn't too far away, because Ron stumbled after his first few steps and only managed to stop himself from falling over by slamming into him. The man leered drunkenly and offered to buy him another drink.
"No thanks," Ron said, putting his hand on the man"s hip for balance, leaning forward, and kissing him sloppily on the lips. The man responded eagerly, dragging Ron closer with a hand on his arse, and opening his mouth for a deeper kiss.
Ron didn't notice that the booth from which he'd come had fallen abruptly silent. He was rather busy.
*****
"Is that-" Neville began, breaking the oppressive silence.
"Ron kissing a bloke?" Dean finished.
"Aye, I think so," Seamus agreed.
"No is that-"
"Ron being groped by a random bloke at a pub?" Seamus tried.
"Yes, it definitely is," Dean affirmed.
"No, I mean, is that Harry standing in the door of the loo?" Neville asked.
"..."
"..."
"He looks angry," Dean said.
"What's he gonna do?" Seamus asked, horrified.
That's when all the glasses in the pub shattered simultaneously, releasing a veritable flood of variously colored liquids over the pub's patrons. Including the random bloke Ron was snogging enthusiastically.
*****
The lips he had been kissing were ripped away abruptly with a shouted "Bloody hell!"
Ron wanted to pout. He'd been having fun and had been reasonably sure they could get off if they could just go somewhere. But now the man was shouting and cursing and walking off toward the loo, shoving through the chaos of disgruntled drunks slipping on a floor covered with alcohol.
Shoving past Harry, who was back from the loo. Even better! Ron pushed off from the bar and lurched in Harry's direction.
Harry watched him approach with a thunderous expression that Ron completely failed to notice. Until Ron got to him, opened his mouth to speak and was punched soundly in the jaw. After that it was pretty clear, even to Ron, that Harry was Not Happy.
"Hey, what was that for?" Ron asked, slurring with indignation, looking up at Harry from an awkward position on the floor.
Harry just pulled him up by the collar of his robes and dragged him out of the pub without a word, to Ron or to any of his friends at the booth.
*****
"Was that-" Neville began again.
"Ron getting punched in the face?" Dean finished for him.
"Yup, definitely," Seamus agreed.
"No, was that-" Neville attempted.
"Harry getting pissed and punching Ron in the face?" Dean elaborated.
"I'd have to say so," Seamus chimed in.
"No I mean was that-" Neville started, a bit exasperated.
"Harry getting jealous that Ron was getting groped by a random bloke in a pub and punching Ron in the face?" Dean hazarded.
"Exactly," Seamus said.
'Yeah, that was exactly what I thought," Neville sighed in relief, taking a swig from his beer. "You two want to go back to your flat and shag?"
"Sure."
"Sounds good."
*****
Ron clutched at Harry's hand drunkenly, and spluttered with indignation at being pulled around by his collar as if he were a naughty child. Harry was dragging him down the street forcefully and silently. It didn't help Ron's pride that even with all his struggling Harry was pulling him along effortlessly.
His mouth opened and closed several times before he got his wits together enough to speak.
"Where are we going?" Not the level of protest he was looking for, but at least he hadn?t slurred. He was sure it wouldn't help his case any.
"Back to my flat. You need some sobering up," Harry replied shortly, clearly angry about something.
"But I'm not even shitfaced yet!" Ron tried to defend himself. "I wasn't even puking all over myself, or picking any fights, or-"
"Groping random blokes?" Harry cut in, sounding if anything, even angrier than before. Ron nearly tripped as Harry tugged his collar sharply and picked up the pace, dragging him along even faster.
"What's wrong with that? So I like blokes sometimes. So what? It's not like I'm gay, I like girls too. And there's nothing wrong with being gay, anyway." Ron said scrabbling with Harry's hand fruitlessly. This was turning into a bad night.
"I don't give a shit that it was a bloke, I'm gay! You are completely pissed. Do you even remember his name?" Finally they'd reached Harry's flat.
A wave of Harry's wand and the door opened. Harry swung Ron around and let go of his collar. Ron was afraid for a moment that Harry had tossed him on his arse but after a moment where the world spun crazily he hit the couch and slumped onto his back ungracefully. Thank God Harry had such a soft couch.
Too bad Harry didn't let him sprawl across it more than a few seconds as he closed and locked the door and turned on the lights with a quick lumos. As soon as Harry was done with that he stalked toward Ron and hauled him to his feet once again, this time shoving him into the bathroom, then further, into the shower.
Ron had a sinking feeling that he knew where this was headed. "No, Harry, don't-" He threw up his hands in an effort to ward off the chilly waterfall that Harry unleashed on him, but it didn't help. His clothes and his hair, (and himself) were soaked in no time flat.
"Feeling better?" Harry said sweetly as he turned off the shower.
"You-!" Ron attempted to scramble to his feet to beat the shit out of his best mate, but the walls were slippery and the tiles even more so. He grabbed the shower curtain in a desperate attempt to gain his feet, but it was unable to hold his weight and he fell over hard, shower curtain still grasped fruitlessly in his hands.
Harry looked at him for a few seconds, expression blank. Then he burst out laughing.
"Shut up you wanker," Ron said sulkily, tossing the shower curtain in Harry?s direction, half-heartedly. He just laughed harder. Ron began chuckling too. Soon they were both laughing hysterically, Harry falling to the floor beside Ron, clutching his stomach.
Eventually the laughter trickled to a stop, leaving the two in companionable silence.
"It was all your fault I was snogging that bloke anyway," Ron said suddenly.
"Oh yeah. I suppose I poured the Firewhiskey down your throat, and shoved you into his lips, eh?" Harry replied sarcastically.
He was obviously still smashed or he never would have said: "No, I mean, I would have been snogging you if you hadn't gotten up to use the loo."
The companionable silence evaporated abruptly, leaving the more sinister variety in its wake. Harry?s shoulder tensed where it leaned against him. It was several minutes before anyone spoke again.
"...Really?" Harry asked carefully.
"Of course. You're much better looking than that bloke, and I've always wondered what it would be like to kiss you," Ron replied, with the happy honesty of the very drunk.
"How long is always?"
"I don't know. One day in class you were running your quill over your lips and I started thinking about it."
"Do you still think about it?" Harry asked, and Ron completely missed the calculating glance in his direction.
"I just told you I wanted to tonight at the pub!" Ron said, cheerfully exasperated.
"How about now?" Harry was looking at him pointedly now, aggressive.
"What about now?" Ron had a Confused Look.
"Do you want to kiss me now?"
"I always do." He still wasn't getting it.
"So why don't you?" Ron gave him a blank look. "Ron, why don't you kiss me right now?"
Then Ron's eyes lit with comprehension and he leaned forward.
Ron's breath smelled of Firewhiskey, Harry's wasn't much better. Their noses bumped before they got the angle right. Ron was soaking wet and dripping all over.
But when their lips met none of that mattered. Their mouths opened, their tongues danced, and Ron saw fireworks and heard violins flourishing and all other clich�s possible because he'd never been happier than he was in that moment.
This is good, Ron thought as he tilted his head further and brought his hand up to stroke Harry's cheek, deepening the kiss. This is really good. Let's keep doing this. We don't really need air, or food or sleep. We can just keep kissing, because it feels too good to stop.
Harry broke away and he groaned a protest, chasing after him with his mouth, seeking him blindly and instinctively. He caught up and the kisses resumed for a bit, but Harry was apparently determined to thwart his efforts to permanently join their lips. He broke away again, reluctantly.
"We should move," he managed between Ron?s demanding kisses. "To the, the bedroom. Get you out of- your wet clothes."
Ron abruptly broke away from kissing and stood up, wobbling slightly, still dripping all over. "That whole shower thing was a plot, wasn't it? You just wanted to get me out of my clothes."
"Well, they did stink like a pub," he said evenly, but he was blushing, and his head was tipped down just the tiniest bit.
"No!" Ron insisted, pulling Harry up off the bathroom floor in a surprising show of both strength a
and coordination in a drunk bloke, and backed his way through the door in the direction of the bedroom, hoping Harry would tell him if he was about to crash into something.
Harry followed Ron into his bedroom, giving him the brightest, soppiest grin Ron had ever seen. It was mirrored on his own face as he pulled Harry close against him and shut the door.
*****
Harry woke the next morning to a pounding in his head and the shrill ring of the phone by his ear. He rolled out from under Ron's still arm and reached over.
"Morning Harry!" Three voices blared out in unison. He held the phone away from his ear until they stopped shouting, stifling a groan. It was too early for this.
"Sorry to wake you so early," Dean began, his voice bright and mischievous. "We floo-called Ron's flat but no one was there. We thought maybe you let him crash on your couch."
He knew what Dean wanted him to say. Smug bastard. Too early to be so damn cheerful.
"Not really the couch as such, but yeah, he's here," Harry mumbled, blushing at the falsetto catcalling that blared through the receiver at that.
"So let's make this perfectly clear. Ron is in your flat, in your bed, with you, and he spent the night there?" Dean questioned.
"Yeah," Harry confirmed.
"And you fucked?"
"Dean!"
"Well?"
...."Yeah."
"Thanks Harry you?ve been a big help. See you next Saturday, eh?" There was a click then silence. Harry mumbled grumpily to himself as he rolled into Ron's side and burrowed in. Ron never stirred. The man could sleep through anything! Harry smiled fondly and went back to sleep.
At a flat in the distance could be heard: "Seamus, you owe us five sickles."