For disclaimers, warnings, etc. see chapter one. This chapter is rated R.

They wandered up and down a few more streets, entering shops that seemed to house a particular interest, but not having the intention of buying anything. Harry only made it to Diagon Alley once a year, and it was always a learning experience for him when he saw the everyday way that true witches and wizards lived. Upon returning to the Leaky Cauldron later that evening, Harry spotted Fred, George, and Ginny eating supper at a center table.

“Harry, Ron, over here,” called Fred, waving them over.

Sitting in a chair on Ginny’s left was Hermione.

“Hermione!” they yelled. “When did you get here?”

“Just a few hours ago,” she said. “I’ve been really rushed, but I got all my supplies. I hope you have, too.”

They pulled up chairs on the opposite side of the table and sat down.

“Yep, every bit of it,” said Ron.

“Where are your books? You did remember to get them, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” sighed Ron, “we dropped them off here right after we bought them so we wouldn’t have to tote them around.”

“How was your summer?” asked Harry her.

“It was great,” she said excitedly. “Bulgaria was just fascinating. Viktor showed me so many interesting things.”

Harry felt Ron tense up at the mention of Viktor Krum.

“Well, Harry and I had an interesting summer, too, didn’t we, Harry?”

“Yeah, it was really nice.”

“Oh? What did you do?” asked Hermione.

“Well, we, um, we played some Quidditch, and um, we…we just did stuff.”

Harry knew Ron was trying to show Hermione that she wasn’t the only one who had a good vacation, but he some how suspected that visiting a foreign country was far more exciting than hanging around the Burrow. Still, Harry would’ve taken Ron and the Burrow over Bulgaria any day.

Watching the rest of them eat, Ron suddenly felt hungry. Because of Harry’s distraction, he hadn’t been able to finish his ice cream.

“I’m going to order,” he said to Harry. “Want anything?”

Harry thought for a moment. “Just get me whatever you’re having.”

He watched Ron leave the table and walk to the bar to place their order.

“How long have you been staying with Ron?” asked Hermione.

“About a week,”said Harry. “They sent me a Portkey to Privet Drive.”

“Oh, I hope they don’t get in trouble for that. Technically, they shouldn’t be sending enchanted objects into Muggle neighborhoods.”

“Come on, Hermione,” laughed Harry. “Mr. Weasley is the Minister of Magic now. Who’s going to tell him what he can and can’t do?”

Hermione pursed her lips disapprovingly, but didn’t retort. Ron returned with two steaming plates and placed them on the table.

“Thanks,” said Harry, reaching for one.

“Wait, that’s mine. I’m going back for yours.”

Harry stared. Ron had two plates piled high with a variety of meats, potatoes, and vegetables. He suddenly regretted telling Ron he would take whatever he was having. Even after a summer at the Dursley’s, Harry didn’t think he could eat all that food. Thankfully, Ron employed a rare case of common sense, because when he came back to the table for a second time, he only had one plate.

“There you go, mate. I hope it’s enough for you.”

“It’s plenty,” said Harry, throwing a puzzled look at the two full plates of food that Ron intended on eating. If Harry knew Ron as well as he thought he did, Ron would have no trouble finishing off both helpings.

With night approaching and their stomachs full, Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Ginny, and Hermione left the downstairs pub for their upstairs lodgings.

“Remember,” Ginny told them, looking particularly at the twins, “the Ministry cars will be here early, so make sure you’re up and ready on time.”

“You sound just like Mum,” said Ron.

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing,” said Ginny, her eyes flashing in a dangerous fashion similar to the way Mrs. Weasley looked when her children got out of line.

Ron recognized that look instantly because he received it often enough. He knew he’d be in a lot less physical distress if he just kept his mouth shut.

They separated at the top of the stairs, with Hermione and Ginny turning right and going down the hallway to their rooms. Fred and George had the room next to Harry and Ron.

“’Night, fellas,” said Fred, closing his door behind him and his twin.

Although Harry had enjoyed his day immensely, browsing through the multitude of curious shops in Diagon Alley, he was exhausted. On his bed were strewn a large number of thick, heavy books that had to be removed before he could put the bed to proper use. He piled them up haphazardly and stacked them at the foot of his bed, next to his school trunk. He didn’t feel like rearranging the contents of the trunk to accommodate such an addition tonight.

He grabbed the pajamas that he had stored under his pillow this morning. Once again, he was faced with the unnerving task of undressing in front of Ron. He would be glad when he got to Hogwarts, and would naturally be up before Ron, where he could make use of the handy bathroom so that they could avoid any more encounters of this nature.

Ron was clutching his pajamas, too, and biting his lip as he looked cautiously over at Harry. Harry cleared his throat nervously and Ron turned away, concentrating on the task at hand.

He was not going to watch Harry change, he was not going to do it. The erection that had favorably diminished downstairs now threatened to return. Taking a deep breath, he changed as quickly as he could, hoping that Harry was doing the same thing, and would be fully clothed when he turned back around.

Thankfully he was, though he was rummaging around distractedly in his trunk.

“What are you looking for?” asked Ron, trying to start up a conversation to break the tension.

“Oh,” said Harry looking up, “nothing.” He shut the lid of his trunk and walked over to sit on the edge of Ron’s bed.

“I was thinking,” he said, “we’ve only got one more year of school after this. We ought to start planning. Got any idea what you want to do after?”

Ron shrugged and crawled onto the bed, facing Harry. “Not really. You?”

Harry shrugged, too. “I’ve thought about being an Auror.”

“But that’s really dangerous,” said Ron, mentally smacking himself for sounding so much like Hermione.

“Yeah, but I want to do something, you know…” Harry trailed off, staring blindly at his feet.

Ron knew they’d have this conversation eventually, and he dreaded it. Harry thought it was up to him to save the entire world on his own. Ron knew that one person alone would never be able to save the world, let alone a sixteen-year-old wizard. Sure, Harry was more than competent for his age, and really one of the more talented students at school, but he was a long way off from being capable of defeating You-Know-Who by himself.

“Harry, look,” said Ron, scooting closer, “don’t put so much pressure on yourself. It takes years of training, even after leaving school, to be an Auror.”

“Yeah, I know, but…”

He looked up at Ron, his green eyes bright, and searching for understanding. Ron reached out an arm and placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. He would support Harry in whatever he chose to do. There was no way he’d suggested another career. If Harry wanted to be an Auror, Ron would be right there with him.

“You-Know-Who won’t stand a chance against you.” He smiled warmly, and Harry smiled, too-a sincere smile that reached from the corners of his lips to his eyes.

It was those eyes that often haunted Ron. Not only were they a brilliant green that was noticeable from half-way across the room, but when you had the chance to really look into them, like Ron had too often for his own good, you could see flecks of strength and concern, bravery and hesitation, happiness and grief all at the same time. It was these qualities, among many others, that were causing Ron to fall in love with his best friend.

Still lost in Harry’s eyes, and not having an inkling about what his body was doing, Ron leaned slowly towards Harry. His gaze flickered between Harry’s eyes and his mouth. Harry didn’t seem to be pulling away, and through Ron’s clouded, numbed mind, he took this as a good sign. When he was just inches away from his mouth, Ron saw Harry’s eyes close. Maybe Harry was wanting this as much as he was. He closed his own eyes and leaned further in, until he could feel Harry’s soft breathing against his lips. Yes, this was what he wanted. What he had wanted for a lot longer than he was aware of until now. Harry still wasn’t moving away or objecting. It would change everything, sure, but Ron was ready for it. He wanted it more than anything.

A sharp knock sounded at their door. Harry’s eyes flew open and Ron jerked back, sitting on his haunches a safe distance away.

“Who…who is it?” he stuttered out.

“It’s me, who did you think it was?” said George sharply.

Those damn twins, thought Ron. He was definitely going to have to do something about them. He wondered if killing a sibling would land you in Azkaban.

“What do you want?” yelled Ron, irritably.

“Did you buy any extra parchment?” George called from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, why?”

“Fred and I forgot to get any. Can we borrow some?”

Ron was being interrupted over a damn piece of parchment? Life was so unfair.

“I guess. But you’ll have to come in and get it yourself.” He wasn’t about to become a maid.

“Where is it?” asked George, as he walked in.

“In my trunk,” said Ron, pointing at the foot of the bed.

He cast a look over at Harry, whose eyes were busy staring in his lap at his wringing hands. The apples of his cheeks were a deep pink.

“What do you need with parchment at this hour?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” said George, trying to appear vague but coming off as suspicious. “’Night, little brother. Thanks.”

He shut the door behind him. Harry and Ron were alone again. The moment was lost, though, and Ron no longer had the courage to resume their previous positions. He had probably read Harry wrong, anyway. Maybe he thought Ron had just been trying to reassure him.

“Well,” said Harry, rising from the corner of Ron’s bed. “It’s late, we should be in bed.”

“Yeah,” agreed Ron, though he was devastatingly disappointed that Harry wouldn’t be joining him in his bed. “See you in the morning.”

He watched as Harry pulled back the covers and climbed into the small bed a few feet away. Ron pulled back his own blankets and threw himself underneath them. How many times had he messed up in just the one week that Harry had been around? Too many to count, he decided. He honestly tried to stay as platonic as possible, but these compromising situations kept arising, and he couldn’t get himself out of them. He would have to do better. Somehow. He couldn’t keep doing this once they were at Hogwarts. They shared a room with three other guys, and he was sure they wouldn’t just overlook the fact that Ron was practically coming on to Harry every chance he got.

That bothersome erection that Ron had been half sporting all day came back stronger than ever. The ache between his legs was almost painful. He rolled over on his side and pushed his legs tightly together, trying to ignore it. But it was no use. He was stiff as a board, and highly incapable of sleep.

He turned his head over to look at Harry. He was on his side, facing the opposite wall. Maybe he wouldn’t notice if Ron took care of his precarious problem. He’d be quiet. He had more practice than usual over the past summer, and he’d learned how to do it almost silently so that no one at the Burrow could hear him.

Turning his head again, his hand crept down below the elastic band of his pajamas. He grabbed himself and felt a strong urge to moan out loud at the touch. He stroked slowly at first, his hand lightly moving up to the head and back down. God, he was hard. Harry was having an effect on him that he hadn’t fully realized until now. His movements quickened soon enough when he felt a tingling going from his cock down to his knees. It wouldn’t take him long tonight. Not that it ever took him that long. He was sixteen, and very hormonal. He spread his legs slightly to give him better access and also to heighten the up-coming orgasm. His fist was plunging frantically now, and soon he felt that long-anticipated numbness moving in an agonizingly slow pulse from the base to the head. He was so close. He was almost there. Just a few more strokes.

“Oh…” he gasped into the dark stillness of the room. Damn, that felt good, he thought. His cock still ached from the force of his orgasm, and his thighs trembled slightly. He drew his legs up to still the prevailing sensations. Before long, his limbs went numb, his entire body relaxed, and his eyes were heavy, urging him on to a deep, restful sleep.

“Ron…?”

Ron’s eyes jerked open. Oh, shit. Harry had heard him. He had tried so hard to be quiet. How in the hell was he going to explain his way out of this?

“Are you ok?” asked Harry.

Ron looked at him, but Harry still had his back turned.

“I’m fine,” he said, though it came out a high-pitched squeak.

“Well, I heard…and I didn’t know…” But Harry never finished his sentence.

Damn, damn, damn. Add wanking the growing list of things Ron couldn’t do when Harry was around. He probably wouldn’t get a chance like this for several more months. If Harry would only come suck his cock, or even jerk him off, he could alleviate all of this. It was all Harry’s fault, really.

Grabbing the far corner of the sheet, he cleaned himself up. Hopefully the house elves wouldn’t know exactly what it was that was staining the sheets. It wasn’t something they hadn’t seen a hundred times before, anyway.