Falling

Summer had returned to Britain, the sun showing its glorious face early every morning, and slipping reluctantly behind the horizon every night. Harry had come again to The Burrow. He and Ron had been making the most of every day, playing Quidditch, talking, and enjoying a peaceful rest before returning to the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts.

Ron stepped out into the morning, ducking as he came down from the porch having grown another six inches. He waited patiently as Mrs. Weasley finished maternally stuffing toast down Harry's throat. When Harry finally emerged, Ron shoved him playfully in the shoulder and called out, "Race you to the top of the hill!"

Harry dashed after him, but seeing as he was still full from breakfast and Ron's legs were much longer, by the time Harry arrived at the hill, Ron was nowhere in sight.

"Ron?" Harry called cautiously, "Ron?"

"Timber!" came a call from above, and Ron pounced cat-like from a tree, tackling Harry to the ground.

Harry laughed, and rolled away, and then dashed at Ron as the redhead stood to brush himself off. Ron gave a cry of indignation as he felt Harry wrap his arms and legs round him. Harry pushed him down and kneeled on Ron's skinny chest.

"Hah!" he smiled triumphantly, and pokes Ron's freckled nose for good measure.

Ron snorted, and casually leaned up, sending Harry sprawling to the ground once again. He grabbed Harry from behind, putting him in a gentle headlock. Harry grinned and kicked away, and landed on top of Ron again.

They rolled over and over, laughing and pushing each other, until Ron finally claimed a spot on top, pinning Harry to the ground. Harry giggled.

"Now what have you got planned, Harry J. Potter?" Ron smirked, his deepening voice lilting over Harry's name. "You'll be hard pressed to get out of this jam."

Harry looked up at Ron through thick, dark eyelashes. He leaned by Ron's ear. "Maybe," he whispered, "it isn't one I want to get out of?"

Ron considered his friend for a moment before leaning in and pressing his lips against Harry's. Harry was warm; his lips sweet and soft as Ron had imagined them to be. They stayed quietly for a moment before Harry opened his mouth slightly, allowing Ron's cautious tongue to slip in. They explored the other's mouth gently, Ron's hands woven through Harry's hair, and Harry's hand still trapped underneath him.

It was Ron who broke the kiss first, reluctantly pulling his head away. He sat up slowly, and then leaned down again to Harry's ear, and whispered quickly, "Gotcha."