I dare You - H/R - PG-13
Title: I Dare You
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: PG-13

Written for the hprwfqf.

My Challenge :- 77 They kiss on a dare, and realise they want to keep kissing.

Betaed by the perfection that is magicofisis.


I Dare You
****
It had started on a Saturday night just before Christmas in their Seventh year, The five Gryffindor boys had been lounging on their beds in boxers and t-shirts; the stash of sweets and Butterbeer that had been spread between them in previous years had been replaced by an illicit bottle of Firewhiskey, smuggled in to Ron by the twins.

Most of Gryffindor had gone home for the holidays, much to the annoyance of Dean and Seamus, who would otherwise have been occupied with their girlfriends on a Saturday night. Even Neville had recently been annexed by Luna, but she too had left earlier that day – for a trip to the Arctic Circle with her father.

So it didn’t take long for five tipsy seventeen-year-olds to start talking about girls. Or, rather, for one tipsy seventeen-year-old Irishman to turn the conversation to girls.

“I know what would cheer you up, Harry,” he opined.

“Well, the removal of this certain death thing would help,” Harry offered.

“Yeah, that too,” said the Irishman, taking a pull at the whiskey bottle as it passed him. “But you need to be kissed.”

The other four boys snorted.

“I’ve been kissed,” said Harry, solemnly.

“When?” challenged Dean.

Harry looked shifty. “Everyone knows I kissed Cho,” he said.

“Everyone knows that Cho kissed you – and that that was two years ago,” Seamus pointed out.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy since then,” muttered Harry.

“But you must be way out of practise by now,” offered Neville.

“Cheers, mate,” said Harry. “Really encouraging. Who exactly am I supposed to practise on?”

“Lavender,” suggested Neville.

“Hey!” interrupted Seamus. “Don’t offer my girlfriend to him.”

“To be fair,” said Dean, “she’d probably do it.”

Everyone except Seamus laughed.

“What about you, Ron?” asked Seamus.

“What about me, what?” asked Ron, frowning.

“Don’t you have any advice for your best mate?”

“After all,” Dean added. “You’ve kissed Hermione!”

“No I haven’t,” said Ron, indignantly, blushing.

Seamus, Dean and Neville snorted.

“Are you sure?” asked Seamus.

“I think I’d know,” said Ron, grabbing the bottle from Dean and taking a long drink. “Hermione and I are friends,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Well, bugger me,” mused Seamus. “Who have you kissed, then?”

Ron flushed again. “Well, um, no one… yet,” he muttered.

“Well, looks like you need the practise too, mate,” Dean pointed out.

“And who am I supposed to practise on?” demanded Ron. “And don’t say Hermione, because she’d kill me!”

“Harry,” said Neville.

“What?” asked Harry.

“No, Harry,” insisted Neville.

“No, me, what?” demanded Harry.

Neville sighed, took a drink in his turn and blinked owlishly at them. “No, Ron should practise on Harry. Solves both problems.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Dean.

“Very funny,” said Harry.

“I don’t have a problem,” said Ron.

“I dare you,” grinned Seamus.

“What?” said Harry and Ron in unison.

“We dare you,” said Dean and Seamus.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Harry.

“I don’t have a problem,” insisted Ron.

“Seems to me it’s the sort of thing a best mate would do,” said Dean, and Seamus and Neville nodded.

“Help each other out,” offered Neville.

“No pressure,” said Seamus.

“So you’ll know what you’re doing,” said Dean.

“When you are with a girl,” explained Neville.

“And anyway, we dared you!” said Seamus, with an air of great finality.

Harry sighed loudly and looked over at Ron, then he got off his bed and walked unsteadily over to him.

“I don’t have a problem,” said Ron, backing away.

Seamus sniggered.

Harry sat down next to Ron and looked him firmly in the eye.

“Harry!” Ron squeaked.

Harry licked his lips and leaned closer.

Ron stared at Harry and swallowed, he could see every inky black eyelash surrounding the flashing green eyes.

Harry stared back, every freckle was starkly visible on Ron’s face as it drained of colour.

Ron leant backwards and Harry reached for him and grabbed a handful of the faded orange Cannons t-shirt to hold him in place. He closed the gap between them and slid his lips over Ron’s.

Ron gasped. Only vaguely aware of the catcalls of Dean, Seamus and Neville, he felt Harry’s lips part and he closed his eyes and slid his tongue between them. Harry’s mouth opened for him and he tasted so sweet. ohgodohgodohgod.

Harry held on for dear life. He couldn’t even hear the other boys whistling as he felt Ron’s tongue slip between his lips and gently brush up against his tongue. Ron’s tasted of Firewhiskey and chocolate and the taste went straight to Harry’s groin. ohgodohgodohgod.

Ron’s tongue retreated and Harry whimpered but then nearly swallowed his own tongue as he felt Ron suck on his lower lip. Harry sat back slightly and stared at his best friend. Ron’s eyes were out of focus and he was licking his lips slowly. Harry tried very hard to calm his breathing. It was a dare, he reminded himself.

Ron blinked to bring Harry’s face into focus and licked his lips, still tasting Harry. Harry’s chest was heaving and his eyes were wide. It was just a dare, he reminded himself fiercely.

The noise in the room broke through and Ron jumped back a foot, wrenching his t-shirt from Harry’s hand, which fell into his lap.

Dean was cheering, Neville was blushing and Seamus leaped onto the bed with them and pounded them both on the back. “Excellent!” he shouted. “True Gryffindors, the pair of ye!”

Seamus handed Harry the bottle and he took a large swallow. Harry passed it to Ron, without meeting his eye, and Ron grabbed it, knocking back the final mouthful and choking violently.

The tension in the room well and truly broken, Harry and Seamus lurched back to their beds, and Ron flopped backwards onto his pillow and stared up at the bed’s canopy.

“’t’s late,” slurred Seamus, peering blearily into the empty bottle and dropping it beside his bed.

“Yeah, night all,” murmured Dean, turning onto his side and closing his eyes as he dragged a blanket over himself.

“Night,” called Neville, burrowing under his covers.

“Night,” called Harry, turning his head to face Ron’s bed.

Silence reigned.

“Ron?” Harry called, quietly.

“Yeah?” came the whispered reply.

“Night.”

“G’night, Harry.”

****
By three a.m. the warming effects of the whiskey in their blood had worn off and Ron was awoken by the cold pervading the stone clad dormitory. Pulling on his dressing gown and slippers he shuffled blearily to the bathroom. There he stared moodily into the mirror and scratched his whiskered jaw. “What the fuck was that?” he asked his reflection.

Harry had kissed him. He’d kissed Harry. His friend. His best friend. The person he cared most about in the entire world.

Oh.

But it was a dare. Just a dare. A drunken dare.

It hadn’t felt like a dare. It had felt incredible. Who’d have thought his tongue was so sensitive. His whole body had sung as it had slid past the silken skin inside Harry’s lips, and grazed over his sharp teeth, and thrust against the strong muscled tongue. Oh God. He was getting hard again just thinking of it. And the taste of Harry’s mouth. He’d never tasted it before, but somehow he had recognised it. It had felt like he’d come home.

But what was he supposed to do now?

Obviously it could never happen again.

Obviously.

The effects of the whiskey being felt elsewhere, he turned to the urinals and sighed as he emptied his bladder. His cock was half hard in his hand and the pleasure he felt as the pressure on his bladder eased merged into his thoughts of Harry as he finished peeing and stroked his cock idly. His muddled brain caught up with what he was doing and he snatched his hand away in horror. He was wanking and thinking of Harry.

Now, he was young, fit and healthy, and he wanked at every opportunity, but the images behind his closed eyelids were always female! He had, of course, had a crush on Hermione the previous year, and he had tried thinking of her while he stroked himself, but it was too embarrassing to face her the following day, sure she must realise what he’d done. And now, while he didn’t have feelings for any particular girl, it was always thoughts of breasts and hips and slim ankles and mysterious curly hair disappearing between shapely thighs.

Taking himself in hand again he closed his eyes and pictured Parvati wearing one of her ridiculously short skirts. His cock twitched in his hand. Yeah, this was OK. He imagined her coming closer and taking his cock in her hand, reaching up to kiss him as he leant down. He imagined her pretty face, her jet black hair. Imagined running his hands through her hair as he kissed her. Imagined opening his eyes to find her hair, while still black as ink, was suddenly much shorter and messier and flopping over a scared forehead and into stunning green eyes. Ron groaned as his cock throbbed in his hand.

He dropped his hands to his sides and took a deep breath. Returning to the sinks, he washed his hands and face in cold water and stared into the mirror again.

What the fuck was happening to him?

And Harry. He’d kissed him back. He’d held on to him and sucked hungrily on Ron’s tongue. Was it just because he was drunk? Was it just because of the dare? What if Harry had felt it too?

Making sure he was ‘decent’, he turned and left the bathroom. Pausing outside the dormitory for a moment, he shook his head and headed down to the Common Room. He had things to think about.

****
Harry was woken by the sound of Ron leaving the dorm. Realising how cold the night had become, he wriggled his toes into his slippers and snagged his dressing gown from the bottom of the bed as he passed. Maybe Ron was going downstairs. Maybe they should talk about what happened.

But when Harry reached the Common Room it was empty and the fire had died down in the fireplace. He curled up at one end of his favourite couch and whispered a spell to stir the embers into life.

“Well, that was interesting,” he murmured.

He’d tried hard not to think about it, but if he was honest with himself he knew his feelings for Ron had long gone beyond those for a best friend. Never being quite sure how to show love for people anyway, even he recognised that the way he thought of him was not just of a different order of magnitude to how he felt about the other boys.

He felt about him more like the way he’d felt about Cho, but he’d never known what to say to her. She’d been very pretty, but that was about it. And Ron was just as good to look at, but with Ron he always knew what to say. He knew him so well. They did everything together.

Everything.

Including kissing.

If he hadn’t been drunk he would never have gone along with Seamus’ ridiculous dare. But it seemed like too good a chance to pass up. He’d meant to just kiss him lightly and laugh it off. But then Ron’s tongue - Ron’s tongue - was in his mouth, and his body had been consumed by the feelings it stirred.

But the question was ‘why?’

How drunk had Ron been? It wasn’t like him to let Seamus get to him like that – so what if he’d never been kissed?

And it certainly wasn’t like him to nibble on Harry’s lip like that. Oh God. What if it was like him to nibble on Harry’s lip like that? Harry felt himself get half hard just remembering the feeling of Ron’s mouth on his. Just remembering the taste.

Was it possible that Ron felt the same way? Or was this just another way for life to dump on him?

Harry snuggled into the corner of the huge couch and stared into the fire. He needed a Plan for tomorrow morning. But Hermione was the one who Planned.

****
Ron wandered into the Common room, deep in thought, not noticing that the fire was burning merrily for three o’clock in the morning, not noticing that there was anyone else in the room. He vaulted over the arm of the couch he usually sprawled on, and found himself face to face with Harry Potter.

“Oh,” said Harry.

“Oh,” said Ron.

“Um,” said Harry.

“Um,” said Ron. “I didn’t know anyone was down here. I’ll go.”

He started to stand, but Harry grabbed his wrist with Seeker speed. “No,” he said, and stopped, at a loss for anything else to say. “Um. I saw you get up. I was looking for you.” He let go of Ron’s wrist, and Ron’s fingers idly ran over the place that Harry had touched him.

“For me?” asked Ron.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’ve found me.”

“Well, you found me,” Harry pointed out.

“I wasn’t looking for you.”

“Oh.” Harry looked crestfallen.

“I mean, I couldn’t get back to sleep. I was coming downstairs to think about something.”

“Oh,” said Harry. “Then I’ll leave.”

“You.”

“Me what?” asked Harry, wrong footed.

“I came down to think about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“What about me?” Harry asked, tentatively.

“About before,” Ron looked into the fire and flushed, hoping to pass it off as the glow from the flames.

“Oh,” said Harry. “Um, I was drunk.”

“Me too,” agreed Ron. “And it seemed important not to back out on a dare.”

“Absolutely,” agreed Harry.

“And I wanted to do it,” said Ron, very fast.

“What?” gasped Harry.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” said Ron, finally turning back to look at him. “I turned it into a real kiss, I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” said Harry.

“You’re sorry?” said Ron.

“No! I wanted to do it too,” said Harry desperately.

Ron’s eyes opened very wide and he swallowed the lump in his very dry throat to try and speak. “Too?” he managed.

Harry moved closer and licked his lips. “Too,” he said, nodding. “Very much too.” He pressed his lips softly to Ron’s and sat back to gauge his reaction.

Ron’s mouth had dropped open and he sat there blinking. He looked so baffled that Harry couldn’t smother a giggle. Ron jumped at the sound and frowned at him. “You’re not taking the piss, are you, Harry?” he asked.

“No,” Harry breathed, coming closer once more and cupping Ron’s face in his hands as he leant forwards again.

Ron’s hands wavered helplessly between them, before settling against Harry’s chest and grabbing a handful of dressing gown. He moved forwards, but Harry pulled back to look at his friend. “No, Ron, wait. Are you really sure about this?” he asked.

Ron spluttered something incoherent.

Harry looked at him, patiently, head tilted to one side.

Ron sighed. “OK, look,” he said, finally. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I never thought of doing this before. Not with a, you know, a bloke.”

“Oh,” said Harry, glumly, trying to turn away, but Ron held him in place by the lapels of his dressing gown.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked. “Did you, you know, think about it?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

“Oh,” said Ron. “OK. That’s OK. Uh, so who…”

“You,” said Harry, his eyes sliding away and down.

“Me?” squeaked Ron. “Well, that’s, um, a good thing, considering. Isn’t it?”

“You’re not freaked out?” Harry asked, still avoiding his eyes.

Ron snorted and Harry finally looked up. “Why would I be freaked out by you wanting to kiss me, but not by you actually kissing me?”

“Well, it seems so premeditated,” Harry muttered and Ron rolled his eyes.

“Harry?” he asked.

“Mmmm.”

“Just shut up and kiss me!”

Ron pulled hard at the lapels of Harry’s dressing gown and, leaning back along the couch, he pulled Harry down on top of him. Harry sighed and settled full-length against him, tangling their legs and finally sealing their mouths together.

Together.