Title: The
Divination of Fortune Cookies
Author: Magic of
Isis
Pairing:
Harry/Ron
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry is disturbed when his fortune cookies
seem to know more than he does.
Warning: Fluffy with no smut and a little bit of
angst, too.
Notes: Beta credit
goes to my wonderful friend, Kate, who had great suggestions as always.
It was insane, thought Ron, that Harry insisted on not using magic to move all of their things into the flat. He set the last box down by the huge fireplace and sank into a chair. Harry laughed when he saw Ron lying there completely knackered.
“You wouldn’t have lasted even one week with the Dursleys,” he mused. “This was a typical morning’s work for me.”
Ron snorted. “Yeah? Well, then, I hate them even more than I used to. You’ll at least let us magic things out of the boxes, won’t you?”
Harry flopped onto the couch. “Do whatever you want – it’s mostly your stuff. Except for the furniture, my things fit into my trunk.”
Ron narrowed his eyes, but he was smiling. He’d been waiting for this day forever. He and Harry were finally moving into their own flat together with no other mates, no family, and most importantly, no Dark Lord looming over their heads. Ron was starting work in the Department of Magical Sports and Games on Monday, and Harry had another three weeks before Auror classes began.
“I’m starving. When is Hermione going to show up with the food?”
“How about right now,” answered Hermione from the open doorway. She was carrying two large bags, and the smells wafting from them were divine. “The curry place looked a bit dodgy, so I got Chinese. Hope that’s okay.”
“Mmm, Chinese!” gushed Harry. “I’ve only had it twice, but I love it.”
Hermione and Ron looked scandalized, exchanging glances with each other before staring at Harry.
“You’ve only eaten Chinese food twice? In your whole life?” asked Ron, dumbfounded.
Harry shrugged. “Yeah. Well, I’m not counting that stuff they served with rice at Hogwarts; I mean real Chinese. There was that time, summer before fifth year, when Tonks brought Chinese take away for us at Grimmauld Place, and then once last year, when Remus and I were training.”
Hermione was unpacking the containers, summoning plates from the kitchen and digging out plastic spoons for serving. Ron fetched three bottles of butterbeer from the refrigerator and they sat down at the makeshift table (Ron’s unpacked trunk) to eat.
“So, Harry, Ron,” Hermione said between bites of lo mien, “you’ve got your bachelor pad almost ready to go. When does the parade of girls begin?” She had a twinkle in her eye as she said this, but wore her usual earnest expression.
“Er…” Harry blushed.
Ron laughed. “Heh – that’s a good one, Hermione. Why would you think things would be any different just because we’re no longer at Hogwarts? It’s not like Harry and I had loads of girls beating down our door. Do you know someone who’s interested?” He winked at her before giving up on the chopsticks and shoveling an enormous bite of fried rice into his mouth with a spoon.
Shifting in her chair, Hermione glanced at Harry. “Well, Witch Weekly is already speculating about who Harry will start dating now that he’s been placed on their Most Eligible Bachelor list.”
Harry had been taking a swallow of butterbeer, and he nearly sprayed a mouthful all over the table. “I’ve been WHAT?”
Hermione grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “It came out in last week’s issue. Congratulations, Harry.”
“Fuck.” Harry cringed at the scathing look he got. “Oh, sorry, Hermione. It’s just that I don’t like it when people talk about me like that. It’s nobody’s business who I date or even if I date. I’d just rather not draw attention to it.”
“I can see his point, Hermione,” said Ron, vaguely waving in Harry’s direction. “I’d hate it if it was me everyone was talking about.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, Ron, your name did surface a few times.”
“Me? Who cares about me? I’m not famous for anything.”
Hermione bit back a smirk before continuing. “Yes, but they care about Harry. Your name has been bandied about in conjunction with Harry’s. But don’t worry – so has mine.”
Harry was blushing madly, clearly wishing that they were talking about anything else except his love life. “This is really delicious. Where’d you get it, Hermione?”
Smiling at Harry’s blatant change of topic, she replied, “Just down the road. It’s a little place called ‘Ching’s Wok.’ It’s not much to look at from the outside, but the food is good, isn’t it?”
“Is it all right if I finish this?” Ron asked, still chewing as he emptied the carton of Kung Pao beef onto his plate. He caught Harry and Hermione snickering, even as they nodded in agreement. “What – I’m just a growing boy, you know!”
Harry rummaged through the bags. “Look – fortune cookies! This is the best part. Want one?” He passed them out and ripped open the wrapper of his own.
Hermione nodded at hers. “‘THE PHILOSOPHY OF ONE CENTURY BECOMES THE COMMON SENSE OF THE NEXT,’” she read aloud. “I agree with that. It’s not really a fortune, though, as much as a universal truth. What does yours say?”
Harry cleared his throat. “‘CHINESE FOOD IS THE KEY TO YOUR HEART.’ How true! Now there’s a quote for your stupid Witch Weekly magazine,” he chuckled.
“Yes, they’ll probably run a full feature article on Harry Potter’s favorite dishes. Okay, here’s mine: ‘SOMETIMES IT’S BETTER TO BE LUCKY THAN GOOD.’”
“Truer words were never spoken,” nodded Harry. Harry walked towards the kitchen. “Anybody else want a glass of water?”
Ron and Hermione both said they did, and Harry disappeared. Immediately, they put their heads together.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Ron anxiously.
“I couldn’t say for sure that he’s gay, but I’d rate it at least a 90% chance that he doesn’t like girls.”
“What’s the difference?”
Hermione checked to see that the door to the kitchen was still closed. “He might be asexual.”
“Definitely not,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. At Hermione’s questioning expression, he continued, “We shared a dormitory for seven years. I’m telling you – he’s not asexual.”
“Let me try one more thing, then. Make yourself scarce for about five minutes.” She sat up quickly when the door to the kitchen opened.
Harry set a glass of water down in front of each of them. “I ate too fast,” he grumbled. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Don’t worry, mate. It’s Chinese food, which means you’ll be hungry again in half an hour. But you know, I think I have a stomach remedy in one of these boxes that you’ve refused to help me unpack. Let me see if I can find it.” Ron took a big gulp from his water glass and went off to spend five minutes searching for the stomach remedy that he’d already put away in the bathroom cupboard.
Hermione slid closer to Harry after Ron disappeared down the hall. “Harry, you never did answer my question about – ahem – entertaining girls in your new flat.”
“Oh. I – I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. I suppose we’ll have some kind of a party—”
“That’s not what I meant, Harry. I meant overnight – in your bed.”
Harry blushed, and his hand shook ever so slightly. “If you’re angling for an invitation, Hermione, just say so. You know you’re always welcome, and I’ll be happy to bunk on the couch so you could have some privacy in my room.”
And all this time, Hermione had thought Ron was the thick one. “Being in separate rooms would make it hard to fool around.”
“Hermione!”
She giggled. “Calm down, Harry. I’m not asking for myself. It’s just that several witches I know have asked me about, um, potentially dating you, and I’m never quite sure what to tell them. You didn’t exactly set the social scene on fire at Hogwarts.”
“I was a little busy trying to save the goddamn wizarding world from Voldemort,” he said defensively. “Tell them not to hold their breath.”
Ron appeared just then with a bottle of stomach potion, but Harry pushed it away. “Thanks, but I don’t really need it anymore. I have a headache now.” He gave Hermione an awkward hug. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to lie down for a bit. Thanks for bringing dinner, Hermione.”
Ron and Hermione heard Harry’s door close. “No question about it,” Hermione murmured quietly. “He’s gay.”
Ron’s eyes went wide. “How do you know this? Did he admit it?”
“No, but I practically promised to deliver my girlfriends to his bed, and he didn’t even ask which ones. What heterosexual wizard our age would turn down that offer?”
“You have a point there. So what do you think I should do?”
Hermione patted Ron’s arm. “Make your move, but do it slowly. I don’t think he’s very comfortable with his feelings yet.”
“Yeah. I know how he feels.”
After Hermione left, Ron went to clean up their dishes. Gathering up the discarded paper from the table, he read Harry’s fortune again. ‘Chinese food is the key to your heart.’ He mulled it over in his mind. Good thing he liked Chinese food too.
“We’re going to have to learn to cook, Harry. We can’t keep coming here every evening.” Ron pulled open the door to Ching’s Wok and followed Harry inside.
“But I like it. Besides, I haven’t tried everything on the menu yet.”
They sat down at their usual table, and a waiter arrived with menus and a pot of green tea. As Ron poured some into their cups, Harry said, “The other day, when Hermione was over, I think she might have been coming on to me.”
Ron set the teapot down and flashed him a crooked smile. “Really?”
“Well, I don’t know. She was offering to help me get laid, and I really couldn’t see what she was driving at. I figure she must have been hinting for herself, because what kind of girl would pimp out her friends?”
“Maybe she was just trying to be helpful. You know how she dotes on us, and let’s face it – someone like Neville would love to have her help him get girls into his bed.”
The waiter returned to take their order, and as soon as he left, Harry continued. “Has she ever said anything like that to you?”
Ron faltered, and to cover up the awkward silence, he took a gulp of tea and managed to choke spectacularly. It was too soon for the frank discussion he hoped to have with Harry on this topic, yet he didn’t want to lie either.
“I think she knows better than to say that to me, on account of I’m not dating material for her girlfriends.” There, he thought, let Harry make something out of that.
Harry snorted. “And I am? Crap, Ron, I’m so hopelessly screwed up that the only thing I know I want is Chinese food for dinner.”
“Nothin’ wrong with Chinese food. You see, Harry, you just need to find the right person to be with – someone who appreciates the finer points of szechwan dining. I wouldn’t worry too much about Hermione. If she was after you, she’d probably have said something to me.”
The waiter arrived with their food and Ron set about tucking in to his dinner. A thousand questions were burning on his tongue, not the least of which was why Harry was “hopelessly screwed up.” But you didn’t stay best mates with someone without knowing how to keep your mouth shut about topics they weren’t ready to deal with. Harry wasn’t ready yet. He’d start with a small question; something that begins with “You know how when…” or “I was just wondering…” Then, as long as you didn’t push him, he’d spill all. Sometimes the words would trickle out like Chinese water torture, and other times, it would be like a gigantic tsunami wave, unstoppable and devastating. Either way, you had to walk a pretty delicate tightrope in order to be Harry’s best friend. But it was so worth it, just to see that look of relief in his eyes when you helped him through a crisis, knowing that you’d just earned his loyalty again.
They finished eating and Ron reached for a fortune cookie.
“Wait,” said Harry. “Can I have that one?”
Ron laughed. “Harry, they’re exactly the same. Does it matter?”
Harry did not laugh. “Yes, it matters. I’m choosing my destiny here.”
“From a fortune cookie? You’ve gone round the twist, haven’t you?”
Harry snatched the cookie that Ron had reached for and quickly unwrapped it. He read the message and slammed it down on the table, under his fist. “Read yours,” he snapped.
Ron’s eyes widened at Harry’s antics, but he calmly complied with the demand. Clearing his throat, he read, “‘THE STAR OF RICHES IS SHINING UPON YOU.’”
“Damn.” Harry’s brows furrowed, and he was annoyed.
“Why – what did yours say?” asked Ron. With his long arms, it wasn’t difficult for Ron to lean over and grab back the little paper that had become dislodged from beneath Harry’s hand.
“‘THE ONE YOU SEEK IS RIGHT BEFORE YOUR EYES,’” read Ron. “What’s wrong with that? Oh, wait, I think this is a joke one. I think it’s supposed to be ‘The one you see is right before your eyes.’ Get it?”
“I don’t think it’s a joke, Ron. I think these fortunes are trying to tell me something.”
With much effort, Ron was able to keep a straight face. “Really? Harry, no offense, but you were terrible at Divination, same as I was.”
“I’m telling you, it’s weird. How many nights in a row have we eaten from here?”
“Four? Yeah, and tomorrow we should try pizza for a change. Or curry.”
Harry ignored Ron’s whinging. “Well, while you’ve been getting the star of riches shining on you, I’ve gotten: ‘Chinese food is the key to your heart,’ ‘A good friend offers untold benefits,’ ‘Open your heart to the possibilities,’ and now tonight, ‘The one you seek is right before your eyes.’ Doesn’t that seem a little odd to you?”
Ron’s lips quivered as he tried hard not to laugh. “Well, if there is a god of fortune cookies, it sounds as if he thinks you’re a bit of a sap.”
“Ron, it’s not funny!”
Ron placed his warm hand on Harry’s clenched fist. “What, exactly, do you think it’s trying to tell you?”
“That I…er, I think it means… well, I’m not sure.” Harry sat up straight, pulling his hand away from Ron’s.
“Look. They’re just scraps of paper. They’re supposed to be fun, not upsetting. Why don’t we go somewhere else tomorrow, and I’m sure that by the time we get back here to eat, you’ll be getting the stupid ones like ‘TRAVEL HOPEFULLY, ARRIVE EXPECTANTLY,’ that I’ve been getting.”
“Maybe you’re right,” sighed Harry. “It’s probably just a coincidence that they seem like they’re trying to tell me what to do.”
On the way home they talked about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup and a plan to use Harry’s fame to secure tickets in the VIP box again. All thoughts of divine fortune cookies were forgotten.
Harry woke up from his dream in a cold sweat. He could still vaguely recollect the haunting image of Ron walking away into the fog and of himself shouting, “Don’t go! Please come back!” He shook off his haze and looked at the clock – holy crap, it was almost noon.
He padded out to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. As he waited for it to steep, Harry pondered why he was suddenly having disturbing dreams about losing Ron; it was the third one this week. He had to admit that after several years of Voldemort filling his head with horrible images of all kinds, he was quite suspect of any of his dreams. But why now? And why Ron? It wasn’t as if he’d never dreamt of Ron before. Hell, he’d even wanked while thinking about his best mate. It’s just that the emotions were so much stronger than ever before. It was almost as if he had a crush on Ron. But that was ridiculous. It must be those damned fortune cookies putting the idea in his head.
Sipping his tea, Harry tried in vain to talk himself out of the idea that he was attracted to Ron. After all, he liked girls. He’d even kissed a girl. Once. Two-and-a-half years ago. And one of his best friends was a girl. Of course, he’d never had a sexual thought about her in all the time he’d known her. And so what if he usually thought of boys when he wanked. Unlike girls, he had actual experience of seeing them naked. And all boys thought about other boys once in a while. Didn’t they? And Ron… it was just because that they spent so much time together that Harry thought about him all the time. And he had nice hair. And the two little freckles on the side of his neck would be so much fun for him to connect with his tongue. God, he did not just think that, did he?
With a huge sigh, Harry returned to his room to dress. He couldn’t help but think the key to all this was the divination from the fortune cookies. His curiosity had definitely got the best of him, and he had to try them again, this time without Ron looking over his shoulder.
It was only a short walk to the restaurant, one that went even quicker than usual since he was on an urgent mission. Harry arrived just after a large group of people, and he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet while waiting impatiently. Finally, the young Chinese woman returned to the front desk and grabbed a menu.
“Jus’ one today?” she asked, obviously remembering him from one of the three previous nights he and Ron had dined there.
“Er, no thank you. I’m wondering if you would sell me a dozen fortune cookies. To take away.”
The woman seemed puzzled by this request. “One momen’,” she said, stepping away towards the kitchen.
She emerged a short while later with the older man who usually waited on them at night. He and Ron had assumed this was Mr. Ching. He smiled gleefully when he saw Harry, and said something in Chinese to the woman who scurried away.
“You back again! You must like my wife’s cooking!”
Harry grinned nervously. “Yeah, it’s great. But I don’t have time to stay for lunch today – I was just wanting to buy some cookies.”
Mr. Ching nodded, as if this was completely normal. “I like them, too. We don’t make them here, though. They come from factory in France.”
“France? Really?” Harry could hardly believe that some factory worker in France was determining his fate. “They’re very tasty.” Mr. Ching’s eyes danced as if he knew damn well that it wasn’t the cookies but the fortunes inside that Harry was after.
The young woman returned with a paper bag, closed with three staples at the top. As she handed it to Harry, she said something to Mr. Ching in Chinese, which he answered. Harry watched, fascinated.
“Er, how much do I owe you, then?”
Mr. Ching waved his hand. “I give them to you today. You’re my best customer this week, so I give you this as gift.”
Harry smiled. “Thank you very much. I’ll be back soon with my friend, I’m sure.”
With the bag of cookies in hand, he sped out the door. He couldn’t wait the extra ten minutes it would take to hurry home, so he ducked into the shadows and Apparated.
Harry immediately ripped open the bag and dumped the fortune cookies into a pile in the middle of the table. He ripped the wrapper off the closest one and broke the cookie in half.
‘LOVE FOLLOWS NOT THE PLANS OF OUR HEAD BUT THE DESIRES OF OUR HEART.’
Harry snorted. No kidding. Still, that was pretty general. He broke open five more cookies, hoping for those elusive stupid fortunes that Ron had gotten. No such luck.
‘ SEARCH FOR THE PERFECT LOVER INSIDE YOUR HEART.’
‘ALWAYS REMEMBER WHAT IS NEAR AND DEAR.’
‘ONLY A FOOL IGNORES ANY OF HIS OPTIONS.’
‘THE ONE YOU LOVE LOVES YOU BACK.’
‘THE WAIT FOR YOUR SOUL MATE IS OVER.’
Harry started to breathe faster. Why were all of these about love? And why did they seem to be suggesting that Harry already knew who his soul mate was? He tried to look at the fortunes objectively. Ron was right – they were just bits of paper with generic sayings. Calming down some, he reached for the next one.
‘REVEAL YOUR FEELINGS TO THE ONE YOU’D MISS MOST.’
No way. There was no way this could be a coincidence. Ron was the thing he’d miss most. He’d known that since fourth year and the second task. The other boys in the dorm had teased him about it for years – but that didn’t make it any less true. So this cookie was suggesting that he reveal his feelings to Ron. Harry shivered at the thought. Reveal what feelings? His feelings about Ron?
Maybe there would be more wisdom in the next cookie. He broke it open and put half of it in his mouth before gathering up the courage to read the fortune. It was a good thing that he’d chewed and swallowed before glancing at the words:
‘REDHEADS MAKE BETTER LOVERS.’
Fuck.
Ron knew that something was up the minute he walked in the door. There was a pile of broken fortune cookies in the middle of the dining room table, and the flat, which Harry always kept unnaturally tidy, had things strewn about over chairs and on the floor. It was obvious that Harry had been searching for something.
Not finding Harry in the living room, he crept down the hall. Harry was reclining on his bed, reading what appeared to be a Hogwarts textbook.
“Brushing up on your Charms before Auror School starts next week?” Ron asked quietly.
Harry looked up, gazing at Ron with a pensive expression. “No, I was just looking through my old Divination book.” He sat up and motioned to Ron to come in the room. “You know how when you get that niggling feeling that there’s something important right in front of your eyes that you ought to know, but you can’t quite put your finger on what it is? Well, I was just looking through here to see if that feeling is some branch of Divination.”
“Why? Are you having that happen now?” Ron sat on the edge of Harry’s bed and loosened his tie.
With furrowed brows, Harry answered, “Yes, and no. I feel like I’m being bombarded with signs all pointing in the same direction, but I don’t understand what they mean.”
“And you think you’re going to find the meaning in our old Divination textbook?”
Harry sighed. “I don’t know. It kind of reminds me of that first time I ever saw centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. They kept telling Hagrid ‘Mars is bright tonight.’ I never did figure out what they meant by that. But you could tell by the way they said it that something strange was happening.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I can never think very well on an empty stomach. Let’s get fish and chips tonight – I see that you’ve already got your Chinese fix for the day.”
Harry flushed a little as he rolled off the bed. “Hey Ron, do me a favor, would you?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I bought a bunch of fortune cookies today – don’t laugh, it’s not funny – and all of my fortunes seemed to have a theme again. So I left a few for you to open. I want to see if it’s just a coincidence that I got the soppy ones or if they’re all like that.”
Ron snickered. “Yeah, okay. Just let me change my shirt. I’ll be right there.”
Harry was pacing nervously when Ron emerged from his room, and it was all Ron could do to keep from laughing. “All right. Let me at those enchanted fortune cookies,” he said with a cheeky grin.
Ron made a display of breaking open the cookie and turning his back to Harry so that he couldn’t see Ron extracting the fortune. He could hear Harry sigh behind him, so he turned back around and held out the small piece of paper.
“Ahem. ‘GOOD FORTUNE WILL SMILE UPON YOU.’ There, that doesn’t seem so scary, does it?”
“Try another one.”
Ron selected another cookie and pulled out the fortune. “‘A KIND SMILE CREATES HAPPINESS.’”
Harry began to pace again, obviously upset. Ron picked up one of the two remaining cookies and quickly opened it. Knowing that Harry wouldn’t like it, Ron handed it to him.
‘WHEN YOU ROW ANOTHER PERSON ACROSS A RIVER, YOU GET THERE YOURSELF.’
“Give me this,” Harry muttered under his breath, reaching for the last cookie. He dissolved into a stunned silence when he read it.
‘FRIENDSHIP WILL TURN TO LOVE.’
Ron peered over Harry’s shoulder, reading the fortune. Perfect. “Well, it’s not as good as having good fortune smiling upon you, but really, Harry, you could do a lot worse. I mean, think of how bad it would be if Trelawney made them up.”
Even in his agitated state, Harry smiled at that one. “Yeah. ‘Friendship will turn to betrayal, and you’ll die a humiliating death by torture.”
“Come on. Let’s get something to eat. Then I think we should stop at the market to buy some food. All this restaurant dining is making you go funny in the head.”
Ron could tell that Harry had spent a lot of time thinking, and he’d been throwing out tidbits of information about what was bothering him. He resigned himself to Harry’s Chinese water torture method of spilling his guts. If this time was like the others, it would be a long evening, and perhaps even two long evenings.
“What exactly is a friend, Ron?” Harry was droning. Of course, he didn’t want to hear Ron’s answer; he was just using Ron as a sounding board. Harry continued, “Is it someone who helps you out when you’re in trouble? Because if that’s the case, then Snape would be considered my friend, and we all know that’s not true.”
After a few more minutes of hearing Harry expound on the nuances of friendship, their food arrived, and Ron’s resolve for patience finally broke.
“Harry, do you really want to know what I think?”
“Yeah, of course I do.”
“I think you know perfectly well what’s bothering you, but you don’t want to accept the answer. Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me about it, don’t you?”
Harry nodded and popped a chip into is mouth. Ron could practically see the wheels spinning in his friend’s brain as he worked through some new angle of his problem.
“Ron, are you ever curious to know what it’s like to, um, to shag a girl?” A blush tinted Harry’s cheeks as he asked this, and his gaze did not meet Ron’s.
Ron chose his words carefully. “Maybe a little bit curious, but it’s more like that morbid curiosity you get when you hear about people splinching themselves and you want to know how it happened. I kind of want to do it just to know what it’s like and then be able to forget about it as soon as possible.”
“Oh,” said Harry, frowning.
“I’d be much more interested to know what it’s like to shag a bloke.” There. The bomb had been dropped. Ron watched Harry’s reaction carefully as the sound of his words went from Harry’s ears to his brain.
Harry looked up at Ron as if for the first time. “Oh. So you’re…”
“Gay,” supplied Ron, helpfully. “Well, in theory, yes. In practice, I haven’t actually tested it out to see if it’s true.”
“Why not?”
Ron gave him a Look. “Like I was going to say anything at Hogwarts. Can you imagine how Seamus would have reacted? I’m still getting used to the idea – I don’t need to be teased about it all the time.”
Harry seemed a bit hurt. “You could have told me.”
“I just did.”
“I mean before, at Hogwarts. I bet you’ve told Hermione.”
Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “We’ve talked about it a couple of times. But she brought it up. You know how nosy she is when she’s got a theory. Besides, it’s not as if it’s a deep dark secret I’ve been harboring for years. I’ve only just figured it out.”
Harry was quiet for a while as they finished eating their meal, giving Ron time to think about what he’d just revealed. Truth be told, he had expected Harry’s reaction to be much stronger. He had a feeling that Harry was struggling with his own sexuality; it had to be a positive sign that he hadn’t exploded into a blind rage or anything.
“How did you know?” blurted Harry out of the blue.
Ron looked him in the eye. “How did I know what? That I prefer boys?” Harry nodded. “Well, I think I realized that while just about every boy in our year seemed to be scheming to get inside a girl’s knickers, I just couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Besides, I found myself ogling boys much more often.”
“Did you ever ogle me?”
A wide grin spread across Ron’s face. “I might have – once or twice. You’re fairly attractive for a midget in glasses.”
Harry punched his arm. “I’m taller than Ginny, I’ll have you know. And I have nearly three inches on Hermione.”
They slipped back into their usual non-threatening banter about Quidditch, and Harry didn’t bring up the topic again that evening. When Ron went past Harry’s room to go to sleep that night, the door was open a crack, and he saw Harry sitting in the middle of his bed carefully studying little scraps of paper with Chinese fortunes on them.
“Let me take you out to dinner for your birthday,” Ron said after coming home from work to find Harry diligently revising his Charms notes in preparation for the start of Auror School. “I know it’s not until tomorrow, but I might have to work late tomorrow night. Besides, I know this place, and the food is really good. You’ll love it.”
Harry glanced up from his notes, seeming relieved for the distraction. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t want anyone to make a fuss over my birthday. Believe me, after growing up with the Dursleys, I’m not used to it.”
“Remind me again of why we don’t just go over there and cause them excruciating pain.”
With a smile, Harry said, “Because you’d lose your job at the Ministry of Magic, Ron, and they’d chuck me out of Auror School before I ever got there.”
“Oh yeah. I knew there was something. Anyway, I’m not taking no for an answer. Let’s go.” Ron pulled off his work robes, removed his tie and unfastened the top buttons of his shirt. He watched Harry put on his trainers.
“Where are we going?” Harry asked as they headed down the road.
“I’ve got this hankering for Chinese,” said Ron slowly.
Harry stopped dead in his tracks. “I’m not going there. Choose somewhere else.”
Ron cocked his head to the side and cast a chastising look at Harry. “You love the food there. But if it’s going to upset you, just don’t eat the fortune cookie they give you.”
Grumbling, Harry agreed. Ron knew full well that once Harry smelled the food, he’d be fine, and he wouldn’t be able to resist the allure of the mystery cookie, either. They hadn’t talked about the fortune cookies or Ron’s sexuality since that night at the pub, but Ron could tell that Harry was still struggling. Ron couldn’t blame him, really, because it had taken him months and several pointed discussions with Hermione before he was able to come to terms with his own feelings, and Harry was nearly as clueless as he’d been.
Mr. Ching was very happy to see them, and he hovered over them throughout the meal. When they were full to bursting, he brought a tray with four cookies on it.
“I know you like them, so I brought extra,” Mr. Ching said.
After Mr. Ching walked away, Ron said, “Harry, he brought you extras. You have to eat at least one.” He anxiously bit the inside of his cheek.
Harry’s hand hovered tentatively over the four cookies. After careful consideration, he snatched one and quickly broke it open.
‘HARRY POTTER, YOU GREAT PRAT, CAN’T YOU SEE THAT YOUR BEST MATE IS CRAZY ABOUT YOU?
ACCEPT YOUR FEELINGS AND LET’S GET ON WITH IT.’
Harry froze. Ron hadn’t been this nervous since the time he’d watched Harry go off to what ended up being the final battle with You-Know-Who.
Harry read the fortune again, and then glanced up at Ron through his fringe, not raising his head. With lightning-fast Seeker speed, he reached out and grabbed the two cookies remaining on the tray and pushed his chair away from the table, out of Ron’s reach.
The fortunes were exactly the same as his. Three identical fortunes couldn’t be a coincidence, especially since they had his name on them. He reached his hand across the table, palm side up. “Let’s have it.”
Ron sheepishly laid the fortune from the cookie he was eating into Harry’s upturned palm. Harry’s suspicion was confirmed – it was the same as the other three.
“Well?” asked Harry, glowering at Ron with an undecipherable expression on his face.
Ron’s face was flushed and his eyes darted around the room, unable to land on Harry. “I, um, I was going to swap it out with this one.” He pulled a scrap of paper from his sleeve and handed it to Harry.
‘DO NOT BE BITTER, DECEPTIVE OR PETTY.’
Harry’s shoulders slumped. Ron’s heart sank. Maybe he’d misread things and Harry wasn’t at all interested in him. He’d been so sure that Harry liked him – he hadn’t even made a contingency plan for this outcome.
“So all this time, it’s been you messing with my fortune cookies? Messing with my head?”
Ron was now seeing the flaw in this brilliant scheme of his – it would only work if Harry was actually interested in him. “Not the first one that Hermione brought over. But that one gave me the idea. Fred taught me how to change the fortunes – the twins have been doing this to people for years – and Mr. Ching has been keeping a special bag for you in the kitchen.”
“Ching is in on this too? Who else – the Daily Prophet?” Harry’s words were angrier than his body language indicated.
“He doesn’t know what they say. I told him I was playing a harmless practical joke on you.”
“Are you saying this is all a joke?” Harry’s eyes were boring into Ron’s, but Ron refused to blink.
“No! Do you think I’d go to this much trouble for a prank?”
Harry’s voice was low and serious. “I don’t know why you would think lying to me about these fortunes would help bring us closer.”
A wave of anger flashed through Ron. Unbelievable! Mr. Denial was accusing him of lying! “I never lied to you,” he spat testily, causing several people in the restaurant to stare at them. He lowered his voice and continued, “I just didn’t want to say anything to you before I thought you were ready to hear it. Actually, I’ve been more honest with you than you’ve been with yourself. Look, I’m sorry that I thought you might be interested in me too. Let’s just go.”
Ron threw a few notes on the table to cover the check and walked out of the restaurant without looking back. He was embarrassed – humiliated, actually. To say that Harry had not exactly embraced his advance was an understatement. Why had Hermione chosen to be wrong about this particular thing?
Ron didn’t hear Harry come up behind him, so he was surprised when Harry pulled him into the shadows of a building. Harry pressed him up against the bricks and pulled Ron’s head down with a hand on either side of Ron’s face. Harry crushed their lips together in a forceful, inexperienced kiss.
“You were the one who wanted to get on with it,” Harry breathed into Ron’s ear. “I’m going to Apparate home – it’s faster.” He disappeared with a crack.
Ron slumped against the building, shocked, but also inordinately pleased. Sometimes it was hard being Harry Potter’s best mate, but how much harder could it be to be his lover? He had a feeling he was about to find out.
finis