Birthday - H/R - PG
Title: Birthday
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words : 1200
Rating: PG – WTF is my smut muse? That’s four non-smutty in a row!


Birthday
****
Ron Weasley lay in bed, gazing up at the canopy of his four-poster bed. He usually slept late on a Saturday, waiting for Harry to drag him down to breakfast just before they stopped serving. But today was different. Today he was awake far too early.

Today he was seventeen.

Today he was an adult. He could imagine Hermione snorting and rolling her eyes if he said that out loud!

Today he was going to manage to have some time alone with Harry and tell him a few things. Yeah, today was the day to do it, right?

Pulling back his curtains he looked over at his best friend’s bed, and was surprised to see it already empty. Harry hadn’t even come over to say ‘Happy Birthday’? What was that about?

Rather grumpily he got out of bed and grabbed his wash bag on the way to the showers. In the bathroom he watched himself in the mirror as he cleaned his teeth. Well, he didn’t look any different. He didn’t feel any different. Still tall and lanky, pyjamas still too short, dressing gown too small. He sighed. Everything he owned was still too old and too short and too faded. He didn’t have enough of anything. Except that he had too many freckles.

He sighed as he dressed. It was amazing enough that Harry wanted to be his friend, it always had been. He had no idea what he’d done to deserve it, he must have done something right. He sighed again. No, he wasn’t going to say anything to Harry. He was going to chicken out again. Yet again.

He stomped down into the common room, to find Hermione already sitting at a table, working. “Hermione,” he complained, looking at his watch, “it’s eight o’clock on a Saturday morning!”

Hermione arose and came over to kiss him on the check. “Happy Birthday, Grumpy,” she smiled, “what’s it like to be an adult, then?”

“Very funny,” he grumped, throwing himself into an armchair. “Where’s Harry?” he asked, trying not to sound too whiny.

Hermione kept smiling, rather unnervingly. She leant closer. “Waiting for you,” she whispered, “in the Room of Requirement.”

Ron’s eyes opened wide. He swallowed. “Yeah?” he managed to mutter. “Well, I’d, um, better.. uh, go see what he wants.” And he practically leapt to his feet and hurried out of the portrait hole, leaving Hermione laughing and shaking her head behind him.

****

By the time Ron reached the Room of Requirement he was walking extra slowly and feeling very nervous. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he whispered to himself, “there’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s Harry. He’s just done something for your birthday, it’s no big deal.”

Wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans, he turned the knob and opened the door.

Inside was a table set for breakfast for two, with all of Ron’s favourites, and a fabulous, if rather lopsided cake. And a rather sheepish looking Harry, who had been balancing on the back legs of his chair, but slammed down onto all four as Ron came into the room and leapt to his feet.

“Hey,” he said, “Happy Birthday, mate!”

Ron couldn’t help grinning at the nervous figure before him. Harry ran his hands through his absurd hair, and Ron could practically see sparks fly from it as it stood on end.

“What’s all this, then?” he asked, looking at his breakfast and licking his lips.

“I went down to the kitchens and Dobby helped,” Harry explained. “I made the cake myself,” he glared at it and tried to push it back into shape, “but it hasn’t had long enough in the fridge, and I daren’t light the candles, ‘cos it’ll melt – it’s called Chocolate Oblivion Truffle Torte. ‘cos I know how much you lo.. like chocolate.”

“It looks brilliant,” said Ron, smiling widely, “and it doesn’t matter what shape it is – it’ll taste the same!” Harry smiled back at him, his nervous frown relaxing and his eyes lighting up, and Ron’s smile almost split his face in two. “But why go to all this trouble?”

Harry suddenly looked solemn again and Ron could have kicked himself.

“Um,” Harry said. “Um, well. Sit down, Ron.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. Sit down? “Sit down?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Harry, too quickly, “just that we should eat.”

Ron shrugged and helped himself to bacon, sausages, eggs, mushrooms, toast and marmalade under Harry’s widening smile. “Whok swong?” he asked, though his first mouthful.

Harry giggled, his chin in the palm of his hand as he propped one elbow on the table and watched his friend eat.

Ron eventually slowed down and swallowed his last mouthful, pushing his plate away and poking his cake with one finger. When he glanced up, Harry was looking at him seriously. This made Ron nervous again and he leant back in his seat and licked his lips.

“Really, Harry, what is all this in aid of? We could have had breakfast in the Great Hall – even with the cake.”

Harry visibly stiffened and swallowed uncomfortably. “I, um, wanted to talk to you. I thought today would be a good day…..” he trailed of, uncertainly.

“You have something dreadful to tell me, on my birthday?” asked Ron, looking woebegone.

“No, not dreadful,” said Harry, shaking his head earnestly, “at least I hope not.” He ran his hands through his hair again, looking wretched.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you today,” Ron said, and then stopped talking, his mouth hanging open and a light coming on in his head. Surely not?

He leapt to his feet and went striding around the room. Oh god, what if it is? Could he say it? He wouldn’t get a better chance. Turning back to Harry, he stopped, looking down at his best friend and searching his face.

“Harry,” he said, dropping back into his seat, “I wanted to talk to you about, um, Hermione.”

“Hermione?” said Harry, blankly.

“Me and Hermione,” Ron explained, helpfully.

“Oh. I didn’t think you liked her any more,” said Harry, looking a bit lost.

“No, I, um, I don’t. I mean I like her very much. But I don’t fancy her any more, and I never explained why not. To, um, you… or anyone.”

“Well, that’s your business, isn’t it,” Harry started, but Ron interrupted.

“It’s ‘cos there’s someone else. Someone else I like. A lot.”

There was a pause, while they looked at each other, and Ron’s fingers drummed, nervously, on the table.

Then he watched as Harry licked his lips, his tongue barely peeping out before he sucked his bottom lip in to wet it. Then he watched Harry leaning closer. Then he watched Harry’s eyelids swoop closed, two black fans on his pale cheeks. Then he stopped watching, as his own eyes closed and their lips met.

Harry pulled back slightly and Ron dragged his eyelids open to look at his best friend in all the world.

“It’s you,” he explained, helpfully.

Harry smiled.

“Happy Birthday, Ron,” he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.