Shy Boy - H/R - PG
Title: Shy Boy
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: PG
Words: 643

Written ever so quickly and unbetaed, but calliope14 needs cheering up, because of weird Real Life stuff, and an unarrived Ron Ficathon piece.


Shy Boy
****
The summer before their final year, Dumbledore didn’t let Harry come to the Burrow until the middle of August.

Ron lay on his bed, staring up at the sloping ceiling, watching the Cannons’ Keeper letting in yet another goal and waiting for Harry to arrive.

Harry.

What state would Harry be in?

He’d be distraught over Hagrid’s death.

He’d be annoyed at the constant surveillance by members of the Order.

And, if he was half as sex-starved as Ron, if he’d wanked half as often, he’d come flying through that door, ripping his clothes off.

The door crashed open and Ron sat up on his bed, drinking in the first sight of his boyfriend in five weeks.

Harry looked fantastic and Ron was instantly half-hard. He was too thin, but the soft green cotton shirt he wore – which had once been Ron’s – really did set off his eyes, which, now that Ron looked closer, were snapping with anger.

“Harry?” he asked tentatively.

Harry slammed the door behind him and stalked into the room, practically breathing smoke.

“Five week!” Harry shouted.

“Harry?” Ron tried again.

“Did anyone tell me what happened to the school? We left it over-run by giants! Did anyone tell me what Voldemort has been up to? Did anyone come and see me at all?”

“Well, Remus…”

“I have been alone, again, for five weeks, after you promised I wouldn’t be.”

“Harry, I tried…”

“And my aunt tried something new this summer. She decided I could be ‘saved’. I have been dragged to church three times a week. Apparently ‘we ought to be like flowers in God's garden and not let Satan mow us down’!!”

Ron sniggered, and got a filthy look in return.

“There is a new vicar, and he is ridiculously Fire and Brimstone, and she has had him praying over me night and day, and he has a silly mouse of a wife, and, well…” Harry stopped ranting and looked a bit happier, “actually, he has this really cute son - really cute, but really shy – we got on well.”

Ron, who had been biting his cheek to stop grinning, and sitting on his hands to stop pouncing, went cold.

“What?” he gasped.

“What?” said Harry, looking baffled.

“’Really cute and you go on really well’?”

“Yeah,” Harry looked even more confused. “With this long floppy fringe, that he peeps through.” He smiled to himself.

“Harry?” Ron said, stiffly. “Just how much time did you spend together?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno, a few afternoons. I saw him at the vicarage, and in church each Sunday.”

“Hmmm,” Ron pouted.

“And he spent the night a couple of times.”

“What?” Ron shouted, leaping to his feet and towering over the smaller boy.

“What is your problem?” Harry shouted back.

Ron clenched his fists and bit his lip. He didn’t want to fight with Harry as soon as he saw him, but spent the night? He sat carefully on the edge of his bed.

“Harry,” he said, as calmly as he could. “Are we still… what are we?”

Harry came swiftly to kneel at his feet. “What are you babbling on about, Ron?” he asked, reaching out to brush Ron’s hair out of his face. “Aren’t we still together? What’s wrong?”

Ron looked down into the beloved face gazing up at him, full of concern. “Well, this guy – this cute, shy vicar’s son – who spent the night with you!”

Harry bit his lip. His lip twitched. He bit it harder. He snorted. He giggled. He laughed. “Ron! You’re jealous!” he crowed, his face lighting up.

“I don’t see what’s so funny!” Ron snapped, trying to stay angry, but, Merlin, he hadn’t seen Harry smiling like this in ages.

“Ron, you daft sod. He spent the night when his parents were out of town – when my aunt babysat – he’s seven years old!”