Ron had been absolutely, completely correct about the Yule Ball: it was one of the most miserable nights of his life.

He had to watch Cedric dance with Cho, and Harry dance with Parvati while trying to pretend he wasn't staring at Cho, and Hermione smile invitingly at Krum all night, and ... well, his fannish admiration of Krum was now thoroughly in question, to say the least.

To top it off, he couldn't even seem to have a proper conversation with Hermione about where her priorities lay, even when they were back in the relative privacy of the Gryffindor common room.

"Well, you know what the answer is, then, don't you??" she screamed into his surprised face. "Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

Face flushed and eyes burning, she treated him to a glare that could melt glass before storming away up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

Sensing someone behind him, Ron turned around and found Harry standing there. There was a blankness to his expression that looked like an accusation in its emptiness.

"Well, that just proves - " he babbled immediately, in his own defence, " - totally missed the point ..."

But Harry was still staring at him, an odd mixture of jealousy and shock and confusion and resignation in his eyes.

Ron's own eyes suddenly came over heavy and his exhaustion hit him in a wave. He stumbled backwards a step or two, giving Harry a look that he hoped would be seen as an invitation, and turned to heave himself up the stairs.

Since the other three were either asleep or absent, Ron tore his revolting dress robes off himself the moment he got to the dormitory. He was still rummaging in his trunk for a t-shirt when he felt Harry's hands smooth over his bare back.

"Alright?" murmured Harry into his ear, making delicious shivers run up and down his spine and race directly to his groin.

"Mental, that one," replied Ron offhandedly as he turned to capture Harry's soft lips. Harry made a skeptical noise in his throat as Ron began to kiss him, but the sound turned to a groan of impatience and Harry's hands slid over Ron's chest and shoulders on either side until their bodies were pressed together and their breath and pulses began to go short and quick.

They'd almost forgotten where they were when a clumsy thump against the door made them spring apart, barely in time to avoid Seamus and Neville stumbling into an awkward scene. Neville glared at Ron and muttered something about Ginny, but Ron was working too hard on hiding the tent in his shorts and couldn't stand up to make him repeat it. He'd have to remember to ask later.

Harry, meanwhile, was slipping out of his gorgeous, bottle-green dress robes that made his eyes shine and had caught Ron's gaze all night. Ron studiously did not stare as Harry shrugged out of his shirt and slid off his trousers. He did, however, notice the quick, final glance Harry gave him before disappearing behind his curtains.

It seemed to take Seamus and Neville forever to settle down and get into their respect beds. Even once they were there, Seamus kept breaking into the chorus of a recent hit by the Weird Sisters and Neville kept throwing his pillow at him, Summoning it back clumsily, and throwing it again.

Ron really did wonder what had happened with Neville and Ginny during the course of the evening, to make Neville appear so put out. The more he had time to think about it, though, the more he got the idea he should be asking Ginny, not Neville.

He would have a bit of a chat with his baby sister in the morning.

Finally, the mutterings and muffled thumps desisted, replaced with the duet of snores that had accompanied so many of Ron's late nights with Harry. By now, Ron was sure Dean must be already sleeping, and by focusing his attention, was able to discern the much softer sound of deep, peaceful breathing coming from the fifth bed.

Silently, Ron crept from behind his curtains, following the request he'd seen in Harry's final goodnight glance, and tiptoed over. When he looked in, he found Harry lying splayed on one side, glasses still on but askew, mouth misshapenly open and emitting soft grunts with each breath. Ron eased himself in next to Harry, gently removed his glasses and put them on the bedside table, then wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close enough to bury his nose in Harry's hair.

He woke an hour or two later - or perhaps it was only a few minutes - to feel Harry's lips nipping their way down his chest, which was painfully cold everywhere it wasn't being heated by Harry's breath This was probably because his t-shirt was pushed up to his neck, held there by one of Harry's hands while the other dipped tantalisingly in and out of the waistband of his shorts. Ron let out an appreciative groan to let Harry know he was awake and cooperative, simultaneously bucking his hips up and forward to meet Harry's touch. He gasped when he made contact, starting to shudder almost immediately.

Harry let out his own grunt of happiness and pulled Ron tightly against him, revealing that Harry had already rid himself of every stitch of clothing. Ron scuffed his hands roughly down Harry's back, grabbing his arse in both hands and pinning their bodies together as though he could devour him with his touch alone. Harry grappled with Ron's shorts, pushing them down until Ron could kick them away, then tearing Ron's t-shirt off in his impatience. Ron's eyes flew wide, but Harry muttered something about promising to Reparo it later, and Ron's brain was too starved of blood to be bothered much, anyway.

Under the heavy blankets, their skin was on fire, and when Harry thrust his tongue against Ron's neck at the same moment that he thrust his groin against Ron's hips, Ron had to bite down, hard, on his lip to keep from crying out in the darkness.

He couldn't help but think of that first time in the classroom with Cedric, the way he needed to writhe and to pound, and ached for release which was so close and so elusive, while Harry's delicious body knocked against him in an accelerating rhythm, until Ron threw a leg over Harry's hips out of desperation, rolled half onto him and hammered against him until he felt Harry's fingernails dig into his shoulder and a splash of brightness exploded across his vision and a low, guttural cry escaped his throat.

Harry was still working his hips as Ron slowed down, and he tried to continue, but he suddenly felt so raw and sensitive that it hurt too much and he had to pull away. Harry moaned desperately, trying to drag him back, but Ron replaced his body with his hand, hoping it would be enough.

Harry whimpered, his face contorting into a wince in the half-light. Ron knew it could hurt if he got too close, and didn't quite make it. Without thinking, Ron squirmed his way down as if to kiss Harry's hurt away, and in a way that's what he did, only he was opening his mouth, taking Harry inside ....

Harry tasted of salt, like Cedric had, only with something more, probably because Ron had finished already. He tried not to think about it, too, much, but pursed his lips and sucked hard, hearing a hissing intake of breath that he assumed was encouragement. He covered the corners of Harry's hipbones with his broad hands and sucked again, eliciting a deep groan, this time. Harry's hips began to buck forward and his hands drifted to somewhere on Ron's shoulders, not gripping and demanding like Cedric had, just there.

Ron wished he could stop thinking about Cedric. He was with Harry now, and it was all he could ever have wanted. Why did Cedric's face keep swimming to mind? Ron closed his eyes against the image licked and relaxed his throat and took Harry in as deep as he could, straining his neck to suck harder and harder until Harry cried out and filled Ron's throat with wave after wave.

For a long time, both of them stayed still. Harry's breathing quietly returned to a slower pace while Ron pressed his face close to Harry's body, breathing in the heavy musk of his scent. This was the first time Ron had used his mouth on Harry, and he felt there should be a somberness, a significance to the event. He hadn't planned it or prepared himself mentally for it; they hadn't talked about it; but it had happened, and it seemed as though it should be important.

Nudging Ron's head gently with one hand, Harry brought Ron up to face him. His eyes were dark with gratitude and somberness.

"I think Cedric hit on me tonight," said Harry softly, when he opened his mouth.

Ron froze. So he hadn't been the only one thinking of Cedric.

"I was going to tell you as soon as I got back to the Tower," babbled Harry over Ron's useless silence, "but you and Hermione were shouting at each other, and I didn't have a chance."

Still incapable of thinking of a response, Ron could only add a weak nod.

When he found his voice, all he could manage to say was, "I thought he was with Cho?"

Harry scowled, but shrugged. "I thought so, too," he admitted. "Only remember how he stopped me as we were leaving the Ball?"

Ron remembered. He remembered Cedric looking at him as though he were in the way of Important Business, and a bit as though he were in the way, in general. Ron's gut had told him Cedric would try to take Harry from him, but he hadn't wanted to believe it, so he'd shrugged and headed up the stairs alone, where he'd got into that row with Hermione.

He gave a muffled grunt to indicate that Harry should continue.

"Well, he said I should take a bath."

Ron's eyebrows must have disappeared into his fringe, they flew up so fast.

"But you're perfectly clean ..." he protested weakly.

Harry grinned at him. "I was, anyway," he replied, giving a sort of sideways nod that referred to the mess they'd made of the bedding. "Seriously, though, he said I should take a bath, and the prefect bathroom is a good place, and he gave me the password. Said I should take my egg."

"So he was only giving you a clue!" Ron was so relieved, he seized Harry tightly, so happy that he suddenly felt ready for another go.

Harry looked dubious. "I don't know, Ron. You didn't see his face when he said it. I mean, you're the one who's been with him. Maybe he's only going with Cho in order to cover for himself, so no one will guess he fancies blokes."

Ron scowled. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Confusion passed over Harry's face briefly before it cleared. "It wouldn't matter to me, Ron. I already have what I want."

"Yeah," muttered Ron, not entirely convinced that Harry was being completely honest with either of them.

Harry buried his face in the crook of Ron's neck, sighing deeply. "I wish there were something I could do to make you believe you're the most important person in my life," he said quietly.

There was no response for that, so Ron closed his eyes and pulled Harry against him. They fell asleep that way, a warm, naked tangle of limbs.