1 : Beginnings
Title: Beginnings
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry Potter / Ron Weasley
Prompt: Beginnings
Word Count: 550
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Written for fanfic100 and posted at harryron.

The one hundred stories are inspired by Broke Back Mountain.

Ron looks back on one hundred memories of his life with and without Harry.

Enjoy.


Beginnings
****
We spent the summer we were seventeen in a tent together.

A tent in the overgrown garden in Godric's Hollow.

Just Harry and me.

Hermione spent the summer in the library at Grimmauld Place, researching.

Harry felt there was something at his parents' house that the Aurors had never found, and so I helped him search. Of course I helped him.

It was hot, hard work. We dug in the garden; we sorted through the bricks and slates of the ruined house. In the evening we collapsed inside our tent with a butterbeer and a bite to eat. We sat and we talked. About everything. We could always talk about absolutely everything.

One evening, after a day like any other, we were lying on a blanket in the mouth of the tent.

It had been a beautiful, hot day and the clear sky was full of stars. We'd had a couple of beers and were trying to identify the constellations and we were laughing at how few we remembered from Astronomy.

"Hermione would kill me if she knew I couldn't remember any," I sniggered.

Harry turned his head to look at me. "So, you and Hermione," he said.

"What about me and Hermione?" I asked.

"Are you together?"

"I think we will be," I said slowly.

He frowned. "You don't sound all that excited," he pointed out. "You do want her, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes, of course," I shrugged. "But it's not the time to do anything about it."

Harry snorted. "What are you waiting for?" he asked.

"For all this to be over," I said. "We'll live happily ever after once the war is over, but I can't date anyone now. You did the same thing."

Harry nodded, looking very serious. "Yeah," he said. "Too complicated."

"This is simple," I said, raising my bottle for another drink and licking my lips.

"Yes," he said, his eyes on my mouth. "Simple," and he leant over and kissed me.

He flopped back onto the blanket, eyed wide, and his tongue peeped out to taste the butterbeer left on his lips.

"Harry," I gasped and, without thinking, surged up and over him, our mouths crashing together.

No thinking. No thinking. Just his slim, hard body under my hands, and his hands tugging me closer, reaching for my zip. His eyes wide open and staring into mine.

We were silent and all I could hear was my blood pounding loudly in my ears and Harry gasping under me as I touched him.

I touched him. It was so easy. I always felt so clumsy touching Lavender; I didn't even dare touch Hermione.

But Harry.

His skin was so hot under my fingers.

No thinking. No thinking. Just feeling. Feeling him fall apart under my hands.

When it was over I buried my face in his neck and tried to catch my breath.

He grunted and tried to move and I realised he was pinned to the ground. I tried to take some of my weight off of him and looked down, propped up on my elbows.

"I'm not gay," I said.

Harry blinked up at me. "Me neither. A one-off. Nobody's business but ours."

I nodded firmly, and slid off of him, reaching for my wand to clean myself up.


Beginnings - art.

My Big Damn Table.