Title: Poetry in Motion
Author: rickey_a 
Rating:  NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Genre:  Angst, Romance
Warnings:  None
Word count: ~3900
Summary:  First time – in my mind it’s a prequel to Turn the Page.  But it stands on its own as well.  Slightly AU (the pairing only) – 6th year.
Beta Thank You:  kanoei
Original posting: Oct 12, 2006

Poetry in Motion

Late October Half Blood Prince

I've never been in love, as sad as it may seem.
I've never touched the stars or had a beautiful dream.
I've never relinquished all my thoughts or feelings to a friend.
And I've never cried in front of anyone,
even though the pain would never end.
I've never snuggled to a sunrise or made love along a shore,
and no one has ever loved me until they could love no more.
I long for love but have never searched.
Still luck has not found my name.
Yet I know that when love takes my heart,
I will never be the same.

Harry stared at the words on the page before him.  He’d been at it for hours.  His head hurt, his eyes were bloodshot and tired, and his emotions raw.  Sitting alone all Saturday morning in the library, he had not a clue as to why he thought that reading book after book of love poetry was going to help.

Thinking about his discussions with Dumbledore, Harry was stuck on the concept that Voldemort foolishly underestimated the power of love.  A magical power that Harry possessed that Voldemort did not.  It was perhaps the only way they he would be able to defeat him.  Harry couldn’t help but wonder if his mentor wasn’t getting a bit senile.  What did a lonely, sixteen year old boy know of love?  Harry skimmed the books looking for something that might help him to understand.  He knew nothing about love.  He’d never known love growing up.  He was rubbish with girls.  His debacle with Cho proved that.  He wasn’t even sad it didn’t work out.  Now sitting alone and thinking about it, Harry realized that he didn’t care.

Hermione touched his arm and he jerked his head in her direction.  “What are you reading?” she asked, skimming the page.

Harry quickly slammed the book shut, “Nothing.”

“Okay,” she gave him a thoughtful smile, “You better get going.  Ron was just looking for you.”


“Quidditch practice silly.  You scheduled it, remember?”

Harry was flustered. “Bugger, I forgot,” He said returning the book to the shelf.

“Are you all right Harry?” Hermione asked concerned.

“Just tired,” Harry answered as he hurried from the library.

But the fact was that he wasn’t all right.  He was taken aback when he realized that Hermione and Ron might act on their feelings for one another.  He couldn’t help but think where does that leave me?  He didn’t think he was jealous.  His feelings for Hermione were that of friendship and caring.  Why should he care if Ron wanted something more?  His scattered thoughts led him to the library.  Why didn’t he have these feelings?  Why had he no interest in the girls at school?  They were all practically falling over him to get him to invite them to Slughorn’s party.  He had no answer and the poetry had done nothing more than to underscore the emptiness in his heart.

Quidditch practice usually took his mind off things.  Flying helped to clear his head, except today.  Several times Harry caught himself watching Ron instead of concentrating on finding the snitch.  Ron had changed a lot over the years.  When he first saw him at the Burrow this summer, Harry began to perceive Ron as a young man.  They certainly weren’t boys when they were fighting Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries.  Ron had grown another few inches and his face had slimmed.  Gone were the chubby cheeks of childhood.  Harry admired his friend’s new build.  It was sturdier and more muscular than the year before.  In addition to growing taller, Ron had added a few pounds to his frame.

Harry shook his head and looked around the pitch.  Get back in the game, he thought to himself.  Why am I daydreaming about Ron?  Harry managed to catch sight of the snitch and tore after it.  His Firebolt was fast.  The snitch was safely in his grasp within a minute.  He had the rest of the team take shots at Ron for another thirty minutes until they were all pretty much exhausted and ready for dinner.

After dinner, Harry worked on a long procrastinated essay for Snape.  Luckily Hermione agreed to help.  By ten he was finished and wanted to call it an early night.

Thankfully, he was the first to bed in his dormitory.  Sometimes it was almost impossible to fall asleep with the other guys snoring, talking or even sometimes wanking in the late evening.  Harry was definitely the quietest of the group when it came to the matter of teenage self-exploration.  He was downright embarrassed.  Seamus on the other hand seemed to have no problem with the idea of an audience just past his bed curtains.

Fairly quickly Harry fell asleep.  While his dreams no longer encompassed uninvited thoughts and feelings from Voldemort, Harry had plenty of unpleasant and frightful memories to take their place.  Tonight was different.  It was the second task of the Triwizard Tournament.  Swimming through the murky lake, he found Ron and the others.   Quickly, he swam to Ron and cupped his friend’s face.  Then something strange happened.  Harry leaned forward and kissed Ron’s mouth breathing life into him.  Ron’s eyes fluttered open.  First confusion, then astonishment, but finally he began to kiss Harry back.  Their tongues swirled in each other’s mouths.  Ron pulled Harry tight against his body.  They were alone in the lake.  The Merpeople and Tri-Wizard task faded away.  Ron reached between Harry’s thighs and…

Harry shot up out of bed.  He sat there panting with the most painful erection he had ever had since reaching puberty.  Peaking out of his curtains, he saw that the room was dark and seemingly all his bunkmates were asleep.  He pushed his pajama bottoms down his thighs and took his dick in his hand.  It was hot and slick from pre-cum.  As he began slow and steady strokes, he breathed a sigh of relief.  Harry got himself off as quickly and quietly as he could.  Desperately he tried to think of girls.  Girls with tight arses and big tits, but inevitably his thoughts kept coming back to Ron.   It was past summer at the Burrow.  He remembered Ron flying on his broom, swimming, or just smiling at him.  And then Ron was touching his arm, kissing him, fondling his balls.  Harry grabbed the pillow and screamed into it as he came.  It was as powerful an orgasm as he had ever remembered.

Afterwards, Harry lay in bed thinking.  First denial, then shock at the fact that he had just wanked to a fantasy of his best mate.  Oddly, it had never occurred to him, but now everything was so clear.  The pieces of the puzzle were coming together.  His disinterest in girls wasn’t his inability to feel or love.  He was in love with Ron.   And while the epiphany brought him some comfort, it stirred up more questions and stress.  Ron couldn’t possibly feel the same.  Could he?  Harry had spent his life being rejected.   The thought of being rejected by Ron terrified him.  On top of that, everyone in his life who ever loved him seemed to end up dead.  This brought him back to Dumbledore’s words.  How would love possibly help him defeat Voldemort?  He had no true experience with it.  It had been his mother’s love that had protected him.  Perhaps that was the love that had always been inside him, the love that he had been able to feel for his friends, for Sirius.   The thought spread like a warm blanket over Harry’s body.  He soon fell asleep feeling less empty than he had in a long time.

For the next few weeks, Harry managed to hide his feelings from his friends.  He found himself actually less worried about Ron than Hermione figuring out his secret.  She was far too perceptive for her own good.  His erotic dreams continued becoming more graphic at every turn.  It became harder to avert his eyes from Ron when they were always so close, either in class, in the common room studying or at quidditch practice.  The one stress that Harry thought was worse than his own was Ron’s over the impending match against Slytherin.

Harry’s ruse with the Felix Felicis worked exactly as planned.  What he hadn’t planned was the horrible evening afterwards.  Ron snogging Lavender had set his stomach turning.  The only thing that kept him from running away and hiding was his sincere desire to comfort Hermione.  Her heartbreak and anger were palpable.  He could feel it like a noose around his neck.  Harry tried not to imagine how Hermione might react if she ever saw him and Ron snogging.  The idea sent cold shivers down his spine.

The weeks leading to Christmas were truly crazy.  Ron and Hermione were in as bad a fight as he had ever seen them.  Constantly, he would run into Ron inhaling Lavender’s face.  Harry found it repulsive, but said nothing.  He was acutely aware that what he was feeling was jealousy.  He could also see the same in Hermione’s eyes every night that they hung out avoiding Ron and Lavender.

There were only two nights left before the term ended.  At least once every few weeks Harry had the dream in which he replayed that fateful night in the Department of Mysteries.  Ron was about to  Accio the brain.  Harry tried to stop him.  

Ron woke up at the sound of Harry’s moaning.  Ron was quite familiar with Harry’s nightmares and did what he typically would.  He crept over to Harry’s bed and peered in.  There was Harry thrashing and quietly moaning, “No, Ron, no.”  

Trying to gently wake Harry, Ron whispered in his ear, “Shhh Harry.  It’s all right.  It’s Ron.  You’re okay, Harry. You’re okay.”

Harry could feel himself being torn from the dream.  He could feel Ron’s breath against his cheek.  He could feel Ron’s voice penetrating his being.  In a moment of weakness, Harry turned his face into Ron’s and kissed him.   At first Ron’s lips were stiff and unresponsive, but then slowly loosened and allowed him in.  It was both soothing and exciting.  Harry could feel his instant erection and was ever thankful for the darkness inside his bed curtains.  Keeping his eyes closed, Harry continued the sultry kiss.  After a minute, Ron let his lips drift away from Harry’s.  Not wanting to scare Ron off, Harry yawned and settled back into sleep as if the kiss had not occurred.  In shock, Ron backed away and into his own bed.

A few minutes later, Harry heard the distinct sounds of his best mate jerking off.  He smiled as he took his own dick in his hand and silently brought himself to climax.  The next day they acted as if nothing had happened.

Not wanting to show up to Slughorn’s party alone, Harry took Luna.  It raised a few eyebrows, but in hindsight it was truly a good and harmless choice on his part.  The theatrics between Ron and Hermione continued.  If he could just make it to the break, he felt that things would somehow be okay.

Finally, Christmas came.  He was truly looking forward to seeing all the Weasley’s and most of all having some alone time with Ron.  It wasn’t just the jealousy.  He missed his company.  

Despite the chaos and crowd, Christmas at the Burrow was enjoyable.  The ridiculous gift from Lavender and seeing Ron’s reaction was priceless.  It was obvious that Ron had no real feelings for her.  Harry was hopeful.  The visit from the Minister had made Harry realize just how much he was Dumbledore’s man.   It was actually comforting.  And even with the added anxiety of sharing the attic with Ron, he slept better that night than he had in weeks.

The day after, Harry and Ron took their brooms for a quick work out.  Flying around with Ron was exhilarating.  They chased each other and swooped and just simply pushed their brooms to the edge of their capacity.  Harry wasn’t sure what possessed him.  Perhaps it was the adrenalin or perhaps the freedom he felt being at the Weasley’s.  Harry dove down after Ron and caught his broom and pulled him into a steep dive with him.  Ron screamed in surprise.  At the last second Harry pulled up and the two of them hovered less than a meter off the ground.  Harry’s heart was racing.  He tackled Ron off of his broom and fell on top of him.  For a brief moment time was suspended.  They stared at each other panting, hearts beating in their throats.  Harry pressed his lips to Ron’s.  It was electric.  It felt as if he was still flying.  Until…

Ron forcefully pushed up and rolled Harry onto his back.  He stared at Harry with a fierce look in his eyes.   Ron grabbed the collar of Harry’s coat and pulled his head slightly off of the ground.  Harry thought Ron was going to kiss him.  Bam.  The punch landed across his nose.  Pain shot instantly to his brain.  There was blood dripping down his face.  The left lens of his glasses was cracked.

Ron stood up and shook the sting out of his hand.  He stared at Harry lying there clutching his nose and then spat out, “What the fuck Harry?”

Harry tried to speak but nothing came out.  His mind raced.  In a moment of weakness, he had possibly caused irreparable damage to his friendship with Ron.  He may have destroyed the thing he would miss the most.

“Well?” Ron yelled.

 “You didn’t seem to mind the other night,” his voice warbling, Harry answered.

“You were awake?  You… you…” Ron couldn’t think of a bad enough thing to say.  He pulled Harry by his collar and onto his feet.   Again the fierce look in Ron’s eyes, Harry mistook for passion.  He thought he might kiss him when… Bam, another punch landed across his jaw.  Harry staggered a few steps before falling to the ground.

“Fuck you!”  Ron yelled and turned on his heels to leave.

“Ron, don’t go.”  Harry desperately called after him.  “Punch me again, if you have to. I don’t care.  Just don’t walk away.”

The despair tugged at Ron’s heart, but not enough to quell his anger.  Ron picked up his broom and stomped off knowing that it would hurt Harry more than any physical blow.

The ground was cold and wet, but Harry had not the energy or the desire to move.  How long had he lain there staring at the winter sun, he did not know?  He watched the sun slowly descend and begin its set.   A figure cast a shadow across his face.  He looked up and saw Ginny.  She looked upset.

“Oh god, Harry.  Did Ron do that to you?”

“It’s okay, I deserved it.” Harry said sitting up.

“I figured you had a row when Mum asked him where you were and he told her that he wasn’t your keeper.”  Ginny said taking her wand out.  “Mum told him to fetch you for dinner and he sent me off instead.”  Ginny quickly cast a few spells cleaning up the blood and fixing Harry’s glasses.  “It looks a bit swollen.  You can have Mum take a look.”

“No thanks.  I’ll be fine.”  Harry said slowly getting to his feet.

“You gonna tell me what it was about?”

“No.”  Harry said simply, his mind obviously elsewhere.

“It might help,” Ginny said kindly, leading him back to the Burrow.

“I messed up,” Harry answered without offering any details.

“Well then you apologize and set it right.”

“Don’t know if that’ll work this time.”

“Of course it will.”

Ginny sounded so certain.  Harry tried to believe she was right, but deep down he felt that he had foolishly risked his friendship for his confused sixteen-year-old hormones.  

Dinner was just the Weasley’s that night. Harry told everyone else that he fell from his broom.  Afterwards, Harry excused himself as needing to rest.  He just wanted to go to bed and let the horrible day be over.  He half expected Ron to bunk in one of the other bedrooms, but at least this way he would be asleep if Ron decided to sleep in his own bed.

Harry changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed.  It was only nine o’clock, but he was exhausted.  He closed his eyes and could see Ron’s angry stare.  Sleep didn’t seem to be coming.   Anxiety overtook him, as he replayed his best mate punching his lights out over and over in his mind.  It was a stinging right hook.  His face still ached from the blows, but that was nothing compared to his heart.

The door creaked open.  Turning over, Harry saw the blurry outline of Ron closing the door behind him and locking the door with his wand.  Harry closed his eyes and tried to feign sleep.  

“I saw you move,” Ron said softly, “I know you’re awake.”

Sitting up, Harry reached for his glasses and put them on.  He was relieved that Ron was talking to him, but at the same time petrified of what he might say.  Ron sat on the edge of his bed across from Harry.  A silent minute passed.  The anticipation was killing Harry so he opened his mouth to speak.  Ron cut him off before he got a word out. “Just shut it, Harry.  Don’t say anything.”

Harry tried to read Ron’s eyes.  They looked more sad than angry.  He took it for a good sign.

Another silent minute passed and Harry thought he might lose his mind.  Finally Ron stated, “I’m not sorry for hitting you.”

Again Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Ron cut him off, “Shut it.  Not one word or I’ll never get through this.”

Harry clenched his teeth together and waited.

“You deserved it.”  

Harry simply nodded in agreement.

Ron continued, “I’m confused.”

Summoning every bit of restraint to keep from speaking, Harry nodded again thinking,  me too, to himself.

“I hate you Harry,” Ron said devoid of any emotion.

Harry’s eyes widened.  He hadn’t prepared himself for that.  The words cut like a knife through his heart.  

“I hate you for making me feel this way.  I don’t like being this messed up.” Ron explained still without any feeling in his voice.  “Do you want to know why I really hit you?”

Harry dared not speak, so he nodded “yes” once.

“I hit you because I liked it.”

Without thinking Harry replied, “That makes no sense.”

“Shut it!” Ron yelled for the first time allowing his temper to show.

They locked eyes.  Harry slowly nodded once and waited for Ron to speak.

“When you kissed me last week, do you know what I thought?”

Harry shook his head “no” and listened intently.

“I thought you kissed a hell of a lot better than Lavender.”

Harry couldn’t help but let out the edges of a tiny smile.

His voice trembling, Ron continued to talk, “I felt something I never felt before, ever.  I was prepared to forget about it and never say anything.  Only I couldn’t.  I kept thinking about it.   I couldn’t stop.  You, I kept thinking of you, you kissing me, you touching me.  It was horrible.”

Harry opened his mouth to defend himself, but Ron flashed him a look that stopped him cold.

Ron walked over to Harry’s bedside.  His tone now accusatory and filled with rage, “Then you kissed me today.  You bloody fucking kissed me again.”

Thinking Ron might punch him again, Harry braced himself.  Instead, Ron knelt down on the floor next to him.  With their faces just a few centimeters apart, Ron stated matter of fact, “I hate you,” and then leaned in and kissed Harry’s lips.  

The kiss was soft and then it wasn’t.  It quickly became hungry and reckless.  Their lips parted and their tongues explored each other’s mouths.  Ron grabbed Harry by the shoulders and held him tight.

Harry’s head swirled. Every ounce of blood was rushing to his crotch.  He wrapped one arm around Ron’s back and ran the other hand through Ron’s hair.

Gasping for air, Ron pulled back first and stared into Harry’s deep green eyes.

Harry thought to himself, No wonder I failed divination.  I can’t even read three seconds into the future.  He hits me when I think he’s going to kiss me and kisses me when I think he’s going to hit me.

It happened so fast that Harry didn’t even realize that Ron had climbed onto the bed until he was on top of him.  They kissed again, searching, pleading.  Ron ground his hips into Harry’s, but there were too many clothes and too many blankets.  Harry pushed back the sheets and blankets and then helped Ron pull off his jumper.  Kissing and touching, they rolled about the bed frantic and inexperienced.  They were working solely on instinct.  Ron ripped open Harry’s pajama top and buttons flew in all directions.  Harry pulled Ron’s T-shirt up over his head.  Finally, there was skin.  They pressed into each other and kissed with already swollen lips.   Euphoria mixed with utter fear moved them forward.

Ron landed on top and once again and ground his hips into Harry’s.  Simultaneously they moaned into each other’s mouths.  Ron’s erection was painfully trapped in his jeans.   He undid the button and zip and then Harry helped him slide them off.   Ron let out a sigh of relief.  Now it was just the thin cotton of Ron’s boxer’s and Harry’s pajamas between them.  Ron pressed his body to Harry’s and crushed him into the mattress.  Harry’s hands roamed over Ron’s neck and back before sliding down to the elastic of Ron’s boxers.

Tentatively, Harry slid them down and felt the wetness of Ron’s leaking cock through his pajamas.  In turn, Ron undid the tie of Harry pajamas and pushed them down to his knees.  Their flesh touched.  Harry felt himself losing consciousness.  The feeling was so powerful that he had to close his eyes.  The second time Ron brushed against him, Harry came with a silent scream.  Ron slid himself back and forth through the wetness pressed tight between them and came a minute later.  “Fuck,” he whispered.

Ron rolled off and they lay side-by-side, panting, clothes still around their knees.   Still petrified to speak, Harry remained silent.  Ron got up first and kicked off his boxers.  He stood there naked before Harry, naked as his lover not his friend or roommate.  Ron grabbed his wand and cleaned them up before lying back down next to Harry.  Harry kicked off his pajamas and pulled the blankets up over them.  It was so warm in Ron’s arms.  Nose to nose they caressed each other’s arms and hips.  Their eyes were heavy and their minds began to fade from consciousness.

“I don’t hate you, Harry,” Ron whispered, half asleep nuzzling Harry’s hair. “I was confused.”

“Still confused?”

“No, I think it’s pretty clear now,” Ron stated with the slightest hint of sarcasm.

Harry was overcome with emotion.   He wrapped his arms tightly around Ron and leaned his head against his chest.  He whispered to himself the last cohesive thought before he fell asleep, “…I will never be the same.”

(for now;-)

Edited 11/9/06:  I continued the story with  Poetry in Motion 2: Inertia

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