Saturday Afternoon
22 August 2009
Ron's POV
"Alright, mate?" I asked, opening the door and letting Harry in.
He was over for our usual Saturday tea, but it looked as though he'd just woke up.
"'m good," he replied, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the rack. "Where's Hermione?"
"She got called into work. Early."
Hermione had received a Ministry owl summoning her to work at 7 am. On a Saturday.
I'd spent much of the morning anticipating my own summons, assuming it had to do with the Erised case, but so far, nothing.
"You sure you're ok, Harry?" I asked again.
Aside from looking a bit haggard, Harry's eyes were anxious and when he smiled, it didn't quite reach his eyes.
Harry sighed and slumped down onto our couch.
"I'm a right mess," he admitted, stretching out along the entire couch, tossing an arm over his eyes.
"Anything you want to talk about?" I asked, nipping into the kitchen to grab the tea service and setting it on the coffee table, taking a seat in one of the armchairs adjacent to Harry and the couch.
"Dunno," he muttered, arm still slung over his eyes.
He had a definite shadow growing on his face, and his hair was even more rumpled than usual, letting me know that Harry probably hadn't been home last night.
"Well, if you decide you want to, I'm all ears," I reminded him, pouring tea into two mugs, setting one on the edge of the table closest to him before rising again to grab the food.
"You know I'm rubbish at making food, even for tea," I apologised when I returned, setting a plate of Tesco tea sandwiches, scones, clotted cream, Harry's favourite strawberry jam, and some biscuits on the table. "I ran out to Tesco and grabbed the sandwiches & such. Not quite Hermione's touch, but it'll do."
Harry sat up and grabbed a sandwich, tearing into it as though he hadn't eaten in weeks.
"I don't care. It's the company, right?"
We sat in silence for a few moments, chewing.
Tesco actually made some great tea sandwiches, I mused, still watching Harry closely.
He was staring at some point on the floor, eating his third sandwich, brow furrowed as though deep in thought.
"I'm really fucking things up, Ron," he said finally, eyes snapping up to stare at me.
He finished chewing and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before grabbing another sandwich.
"How so?" I also reached for another sandwich, selecting a prawn mayonnaise, and looked at him expectantly.
Harry sat in silence, staring back at the floor, chewing thoughtfully.
"There's this bloke," he said after a moment's pause.
"Sorry," he apologised. "I know you probably didn't want to spend your Saturday talking about blokes."
I shrugged.
"Why not? We're mates. That's what I'm here for."
"I don't even know where to start," he sighed, shoulders slumping, sandwich all but forgotten in his lap. "I'm really fucking this one up."
"I mean, you know I'm about obtuse as they come with relationships, but I'm here for you if you need to unload. I'll even try to give you advice if you want."
Harry gave a small smile and glanced up at me, eyes finally smiling a bit.
We both knew Hermione was the one you went to for advice.
"I really like him, Ron," he said quietly.
"I can see that," I agreed, eating another sandwich, this time salmon and cream cheese, wondering if Hermione would notice that none of the scones or biscuits had been touched when she returned.
She hated when I gorged myself on sandwiches and didn't take a proper tea.
"So where'd you meet this bloke? On that muggle app?"
I knew that Harry had been active on the app Hermione had told him about earlier this year.
Quite active.
"Yeah."
"So what's the problem? Start at the beginning and just babble. That's the best way," I advised.
Harry chuckled and began to spread a generous amount of jam and cream on a scone, and I felt better already despite the fact that he was putting the condiments on the wrong way around. Hermione and I had both, at one point, told him so, but he insisted there was no right way.
"He's just wonderful, Ron," he sighed, sounding, for all the world, like a lovesick teen.
"Ticks all your boxes," I teased. "Even the "big" one?"
Harry glared at me, taking a bite of the scone, the cream and jam piled so high it left a dab on his nose.
"Shut up," he retorted, swiping at his nose with the back of his hand. "Unless you want me to give you the full details," he threatened, brows waggling. "'Cause I could talk about that for hours, trust."
"Please! Don't!" I gasped, laughing. "Just glad you finally found yourself someone who's hung like a dragon."
"What?" Harry was staring at me, mouth open, brow furrowed in confusion.
"You know," I explained, taking a bite of roast beef sandwich. "Hung like a dragon."
I chewed in thought for a moment.
"I dunno, Charlie makes that joke a lot, but he works with dragons...."
"Right," Harry mused, shaking his head. "Suppose I'd never thought about a dragon's bits, but... yeah, sure. Hung like a dragon."
He chuckled to himself and shook his head again, and I couldn't help but grin.
"So, how are you fucking this up, exactly," I asked, returning to the problem at hand.
"I..." he began, then paused, frowning in thought.
"Did you two have a row?"
"No," he shook his head. "That's not an issue, quite yet."
"I mean, we met on Grindr," he reminded me, glancing my way a bit sheepishly.
I shrugged.
"Right," I said aloud. "So... that means what, exactly?"
"It means... it was just supposed to be a one-off, but, you know..." he shrugged.
"He was hung like a dragon?" I smirked, then collapsed into a fit of giggles, earning me a glare.
"I'm sorry, Harry." Lies, obviously.
"He turned out to be intelligent and capable of interesting conversation in addition to being hung like a dragon," I amended, still sniggering.
"Git," Harry retorted, throwing a pillow at me.
"So are you worried about if he finds out you're a wizard then?" I asked, finally smearing some cream and jam onto my own scone. "I mean, I imagine it's a difficult conversation, but you could talk to Lee about that."
I chewed thoughtfully, remembering the first time Lee's wife, Susan, had met the lot of us.
Even though she'd been fully aware she was walking into a room full of wizards, she'd been amazed at what I had thought were completely mundane things.
Harry had been a great help, having gone through a similar induction to the wizarding world himself.
"No," Harry sighed, reaching for a biscuit & pouring himself a bit more tea.
"It's not that. I wish it were that," he added, frowning. "That'd be the easy part."
"Crikey," I said before realising it was not quite the most understanding sentiment to be sharing with Harry at the moment.
"I'm still struggling with the part where I tell him I actually like him," Harry sighed.
"If I'm going to be entirely honest, I'm still struggling with telling myself that I like him," he added, flopping back onto the couch.
"Denial's a bit of a bitch, isn't she?" I reckoned, eating more of my scone.
"I've been doing my damndest to meet other blokes and stay away from him," Harry admitted, scratching at his stubble absent-mindedly.
"Yay, Grindr," he grinned over at me ruefully.
"Bet you're a tad glad Hermione's not here right now, hmm?"
Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands, no doubt imagining the lecture Hermione would be giving him on the dangers of promiscuous sex and being safe.
"She's the one who told me about that dumb app," he grumbled, peering at me from between his fingers.
"I know," I agreed. "I don't think she realised... erm... you know..."
"What a slut I can be if left to my own devices?" Harry supplied, taking a sip of tea and winking.
I couldn't help but laugh at that.
"I don't know that she'd phrase it like that," I began, "But you have been a bit... busy lately."
Harry shrugged.
"He's hard to forget. Have to work hard at it."
"Yeah, however, that method doesn't actually seem to be working, Harry," I informed him, laughing again. "What are you worried about, anyway? Think there's a chance he doesn't like you? I mean, I don't know... you're fit and interesting, even without the wizarding part."
I shrugged. Harry seemed like he'd be a good pull to me, anyway.
"Oh, he likes parts of me," Harry admitted, giving me a wolfish grin and I rolled my eyes.
"I just don't know if he'd want..." he paused, worrying his lip a bit. "Look, when we first met up, he was very adamant about it being just sex. Nothing else, you know?"
"Erm, mate, I'm married to Hermione," I reminded him. "No, I really don't know...."
Harry giggled.
"Too true, Ron," he agreed, sighing and shaking his head.
Harry was gazing, starry-eyed, off into a corner and I smiled to myself.
"So, is that where you were last night?" I asked, draining my cup of tea and pouring myself another.
Harry looked sheepish.
"Sort of."
"Sort of? Do I even want to know what that means?"
Harry glared at me as he butchered yet another scone.
"Shut up," he muttered, taking a bite.
"I was at another bloke's place," he explained between bites.
"Merlin, he was bloody awful." Harry shuddered. "I nearly hexed his bits off to make sure he never has sex again."
"The dangers of pulling a wizard," I conceded, nodding in mock seriousness, earning me another glare from Harry.
"Then what?" I asked, chewing another bite of scone.
"Then what, what?"
"You were with that bloke, and then what? Did you invite lover-boy over to spice things up or something?"
"Ron!" Harry stared at me, aghast.
"What? I mean, if the one was so terrible, and the other is so wonderful, you know. Balance, and all...."
"I didn't know you had it in you, Ron!" Harry was nearly doubled over laughing.
"Does Hermione know you entertain such thoughts?" he teased, and I shrugged.
"We've been together going on thirteen years," I reasoned. "Not a lot we've not tried, honestly."
"Wow," Harry gazed at me. "I hadn't realised it'd been that long. We're getting old..."
"We are not," I chided. "Come on, then. Finish your story. So you didn't call Mister-Dragon-Prick over to sort things out. What did you do?"
Harry snorted some of his tea out of his nose and took a moment to compose himself before responding.
"I called him and went to his," he said casually.
I stared at him. I had to have heard him wrong.
"You did what?"
Harry glanced at me woefully.
"I... went to his," he repeated quietly.
"Mate, you didn't." I stared at him. "I mean, I assume he knew you... you'd been... that..."
Harry only nodded meekly.
"I was really drunk," he offered, not quite meeting my eyes.
"What did he do?"
Harry shrugged.
"Made me tea and tucked me into his guest bed."
"Bloody nice of him," I commented. "You sure he's the one insisting on just sex?"
"I mean, he says just sex, but then does things like calls me his Harry, and holds me and... and gives me massages and shampoos my hair," he sighed again. "Like, really, what am I supposed to think?"
"Sounds to me like maybe he's having a change of heart himself and doesn't know how to go about telling you," I answered honestly. "And if he's aware you're out trying to shag every bloke with a passable Grindr profile, my guess is he's not going to be the one to admit it first."
Harry rolled his eyes but didn't argue.
"I suppose you ought to harness some of that famous Gryffindor courage and go snag him before someone else does," I suggested.
Harry snorted.
"Why does that have to be our thing? Gryffindor courage. I'm scared shitless when I'm around him," he grumbled, slumping back onto the couch cushions, pouting like back in third year when he realized there'd be no trips to Hogsmeade.
"Honestly, I don't think being a Gryffindor means we're not scared of anything, Harry," I told him truthfully. "Just that we can overcome those fears and push forward, is all."
Harry scowled even more.
"If he were a wizard, what house do you think he'd have been sorted into?" I asked curiously, chewing another scone slathered with cream and jam.
Harry sat up, brow furrowed in thought.
"Ravenclaw," he mused. "Or, honestly, most likely Slytherin."
He shrugged nonchalantly, helping himself to another scone.
"I dunno," he continued, slathering yet another scone with jam and then cream, driving me completely batty.
Everyone knew the cream should come first, didn't they?
"I'm certainly not the Sorting Hat," he reasoned, biting into his incorrectly slathered scone. "But he's quite bright and rather cunning, so...."
"Sorry, Harry," I groaned in sympathy. "Both those houses seem like they'd be the hardest to start a relationship with."
Harry shot me a glare as he took another bite of his scone.
"Thanks, Ron," he quipped. "That's a real help."
"Oh, Harry, you know what I mean," I backtracked. "Ravenclaws are only going to think about the pros and cons and what concrete evidence they have to support both columns. And Slytherins, blimey. You've no idea. I've learnt a bunch working with Blaise. That lot. Cunning, to say the least..."
Harry was staring at me apprehensively, eyebrows raised, scone forgotten in his hand.
"Don't get me wrong," I continued. "Blaise is a wonderful partner, and I'm glad to call him a mate. But, if you thought Hermione was scary when she was on a roll..." I shuddered involuntarily. "Blaise will take what I thought was a great idea, but, instead of saying anything, will question me to the point where I smash my dumb idea to smithereens, then he just smirks at me, like a fucking twat, and tells me his own idea, which is always better."
I shook my head, half in anger, half in amazement.
"He's a right twat," I added again, lest Harry not have understood the first time.
"Glad to know," Harry all but croaked. "He seemed absolutely nice at my party and when we went out for pints."
"He is," I shrugged.
"It's hard to explain a Slytherin, though. They're just as sneaky and cunning as their reputation makes them to be. Perhaps even more so, really."
I took another bite of my scone, brow furrowing in thought.
"But when they actually care about someone, that cunning will fuck up just about anyone or anything that tries to mess with you. Of course, they'll be sure you look a right fool because they won't actually admit they care about anything."
It was the truth, and I'd come to learn that Blaise's silly pranks and snarky remarks were a sign of his affection and now welcomed them the way I'd welcome a hug or heartfelt comment from Harry.
"Seriously though, Harry," I reasoned, bringing the conversation back round to Harry's mysterious lover. "You ought to have a chat with this bloke. Let him know you want more than a couple of one-offs."
Harry sighed.
"I know. And I will. I just..."
"Do it, Harry," I sing-songed, and he grinned.
"I will, Ron," he assured me. "Promise."
"I want to meet him. As will Hermione," I continued. "Hopefully, by Samhain?"
Harry grimaced a bit, then nodded.
"Sure, if all goes well."
I grinned at him, helping myself to a biscuit, thinking forward to the day when we'd get to meet Harry's new bloke, wondering what Hermione and I would think of him.