A/N: Well, I felt like I owed life at least ONE Harry Potter fanfic after all the good times. Here's what came out. And wouldn't you know it – irony of ironies… I was always more of a Harry/Draco fan.

Ron stood there, impassive, and Harry found he was quite curious about what was going to happen next. Their conversation had gone better than expected, and Ron was no longer angry with him. He ought to have been satisfied. But somehow, he didn't feel their encounter was finished.

Without thinking, Harry seized Ron by the scruff of his robes and dragged him forward, ignoring his friend's startled yelps of protest. He sealed his lips over Ron's and tasted something rather desirable – something sharp and warm that brought back images of the Burrow, and the distinct spice of the pumpkin tarts they'd eaten that night. Ron's taste. Harry tried to ignore the way the sensation sent a bolt of longing shooting down his spine. He hadn't expected it to be this… pleasant. Kissing Ron was surprisingly gratifying, and he wasn't sure what he was going to do about it.

Ron shot backward as if he'd been jinxed. "Harry, what—" He stumbled and collided with the trunk at the foot of his bed, flailing his arms to catch his balance.

Harry ran his fingertips gently across his lips, dazed. What on earth had possessed him to kiss Ron? Vaguely, he wondered if Malfoy had put him under the Imperius Curse in an attempt to humiliate him.

Ron was staring at him with a face like a madman. "Bloody hell, Harry," he said, pressing himself against his four-poster to put maximum distance between them. "Have you gone mad?"

Harry pondered the accusation in silence, watching Ron gulp and gingerly begin to turn green.

"Blimey, what's got into you? We're lucky that no one else is here…" Ron's eyes darted from the empty beds of Dean, Seamus, and Neville and then to the door, trying to calculate the likelihood of it springing open.

"Ron," Harry started, while his face grew hot, "I'm sor—" At once he stopped. Ron had said "we." We're lucky no one else is here. Harry blinked.

The redhead was still fidgeting with the hem of his robes, gawking at Harry like a flock of doxies had risen from his hair.

"I-I don't suppose," Ron struggled, tearing his gaze away from Harry with what looked like extreme effort, "that this is all some lousy joke of Hermione's, or something?" It was a last, desperate attempt at forming a viable explanation. Harry almost laughed.

"No, Ron," he said, quashing his amusement as he noticed his friend had turned darker green still. "I'm afraid it wasn't."

Ron fell back onto the bed, looking weak. "Oh," he said. "Oh. I was hoping it was a love potion gone horrifically wrong, or the side effect of one of those Friendship Charms the three of us practiced today." His eyes were out of focus.

Harry wasn't sure whether he ought to smile or give in to the sickness he suddenly felt envelope him. "It wasn't that," he said. Then added, "And I doubt Hermione could mess up any potion, love potion or otherwise."

"Oh. Yes. R-Right." Ron clamped his mouth shut, but his usual pallor was returning.

The silence shrouded them like a cloak, and Harry felt the sudden urge to grab his broom and have a fly over the grounds to clear his head. But he knew he mustn't leave now. Ron was trembling ever-so-slightly, and there was the matter of the dull tingle Harry still felt in his chest…

"I'm sorry, Ron," Harry said at last.

Ron lifted a hand to his lips and traced them slowly, in much the same manner that Harry had before. "I've got no idea why you did it," Ron said, "But I think I sort of liked it." A second later an incredulous frown clouded his face and he clapped a palm over his mouth. He squinted his eyes shut and moaned as if in pain.

"Ron?"

"Nothing, Harry – it's nothing. It's just…" He spun around on the covers until his back was turned, and then buried his head. "I must have gone absolutely mental." There was disbelief in his statement. "I-I think I want you to do it again." His eartips turned a brilliant crimson.

Harry swallowed. "Wh-What was that, Ron?" But he'd heard every word. Now he was merely stalling for time. He hadn't expected Ron to be so accepting, much less to invite Harry to lay lips on him again.

"Harry!" Ron groaned, and this time it was nearly a wail, "I don't know what you just did, but I know no one else has ever done it. Not Hermione, not Lavender—"

"Ron, what are you talking about?" Harry's head was reeling. "I'm not sure what you—"

"I mean, Harry, that I really, really want to kiss you back right now." He sounded positively at a loss.

Harry's stomach did a front flip as he stared at Ron's back. "So? What's wrong with that?" He was finding it increasingly difficult to mask his enthusiasm.

"What's wrong with it is what if Dean Thomas or anybody waltzes in and finds us snogging—"

"Dean Thomas is probably off snogging your sister," answered Harry, perhaps a little more impatiently than necessary.

Ron spun around again and raised his voice. It didn't appear is if he'd registered the allusion to Ginny. "Harry! You're crazy!"

Harry snorted. "No more crazy than you are, apparently." Ron drew back in shock and went quiet.

"All right – we're both barking mad," the redhead decided, moments after. He stood up and balled his fists. "I'm going to stand here kissing Harry Potter while You-Know-Who is running loose."

He paused.

"My mum would kill me."

A/N: No, I won't continue it. So don't ask. :P As much as I enjoy the series, I'll probably never write in the fandom again. Anime fanfiction is more my thing.