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Doubting Today

Title: Doubting Today
Author: burntotears
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Ron/Seamus
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Owned by JK Rowling.
Stats: 4295 words
Author's Note: Thanks to lorax and tripthemighty for betaing.

Ron made his way to the dormitories, not surprised when he found the door slightly ajar. A group of 16 year old boys definitely wouldn’t do a good job of keeping doors shut like they were supposed to.

In a slightly chipper mood, Ron made to open the door, but stopped short when he heard hushed voices on the inside. Overwhelmed by curiosity, he stood silently at the door, straining to hear the words.

“Yes, that would definitely be Harry,” Ron heard Dean’s voice whispering on the inside. “So, who do you think would most likely be gay?”

Ron wondered who Dean was talking to. What about Harry and why where they talking about...

“Well,” he heard a familiar Irish drawl and waited to hear what Seamus would say. “Probably Ron.” Ron froze, his hand clutching the doorknob so tightly his knuckles went white. “I mean, if ya think about it, he’s always being overshadowed by Harry and Hermione, Hermione with her brains and Harry with his fame. And as big as his family is, he would easily be overlooked and pushed into the background. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was...”

Furious and hurt, Ron shoved the door open hard, causing the two boys talking inside to jump and look at him. He gave them one look and continued on to his bed, yanking the hangings shut and lying flat on his back, a terrible scowl on his face as what Seamus had said ran repeatedly through his mind.

He heard more whispering. “Do you think he heard?” Ron could faintly make out Dean’s voice and his scowl grew deeper. After a few minutes he heard footsteps and soon after Seamus’ voice nearby. “Ron?”

“Get the hell away from me, Seamus,” Ron spat out, a hot tear escaping his eye. He wiped at it furiously with the back of his hand, hoping Seamus wouldn’t catch how upset his words had made him.

“Ron, we didn’t mean—” He heard Dean’s plea from the other boy’s bed.

“I said leave me the fuck alone,” Ron practically growled and neither boy bothered him again the rest of the night.


“And so you need to make sure you consider the wingspan on your pencil or your transfigured bird won’t be able to fly properly. If you’ve a lopsided bird then you are going to be docked points…” McGonagall sighed loudly and was quiet for a moment and then her booming voice made more than one student jump. “Mister Weasley. Would you like to join the rest of the class or would you just like to go straight to detention?”

Ron looked up at Professor McGonagall, feeling his face going red by the second. “Erm... yes. Yes ma’am.”

“Yes ma’am what, Mister Weasley?” McGonagall challenged.

“Yes ma’am... erm...sorry.” Ron could feel the entire class’ eyes fixed upon him and felt his face getting hotter as the seconds ticked by. McGonagall drew out the silence a bit longer after Ron had raised his wand and finally she spoke again, the eyes slowly turning back toward the witch at the front of the room. He felt a pair of eyes linger longer than the others, but chose to ignore it, feeling utterly exposed and embarrassed about being caught not paying attention. Granted he was caught not paying attention all the time, but there was something different about this time that even Ron couldn’t put his finger on.

“Ron, what-” Harry started, sitting next to Ron at the table for lunch. Ron quickly interrupted him.

“Harry, you’d tell me if you thought something was off with me, yeah?” He looked over at his friend.

Harry’s brows raised questioningly, obviously wondering why Ron was asking this. “Of course I would. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about-”

“You noticed?”

“Well yes,” Harry was beginning to look confused.

“Why the bloody hell didn’t you say anything, Harry?” Ron’s voice was getting high pitched as his face flushed crimson at the thought of his best friend knowing he was gay and not telling him. What kind of friend did that anyway?

“Well I thought maybe you were just having a bad day until the Transfigurations lesson-”

“Having a bad day?” Ron yelled, standing up now. Harry looked up at the boy, mouth agape. “That’s not something you just get sick with for a day and get over the next, Harry! What the hell were you thinking? No, never mind.” Ron stalked away from the table, not having touched a bit of food and his best friend staring after him, a look that said he had no idea what Ron was getting so defensive about.


Ron was taking an extremely long time in the shower. He’d washed himself already and now he sat on the cold floor, letting the water run over his body as he balled himself up, trying to disappear completely.

So what, I’m gay? Just like that? Can you be gay without even knowing it? So just because Seamus says I’m gay, that automatically makes me gay then?

The water was beginning to cool and Ron knew he’d been in the lavatory too long. He heard the door open and balled up more, hoping the person wasn’t expecting to use his shower stall, which had no hot water left.

He heard the footsteps falter and wondered suddenly what was happening. Finally, they made their way to the bench in the middle of the stalls and he saw feet sitting on the ground in front of his stall.

Go away. Go away. Leave me alone.

A heavy sigh came from the faceless figure and Ron sat, frozen, not knowing what to expect. The person knew he was in there and he was nervous; nervous like Ron was but for whatever reason, Ron didn’t know.

A cough now and Ron jumped slightly, startled by the noise that pierced through the silent air. Ron didn’t move.

“Ron. Mate, I...” The voice stopped and Ron inwardly groaned. Shit. Not him. Not now. Just go away. Just stay quiet and he’ll go away. “I’m not sure what yeh heard but I... I think yeh shouldn’t have heard it. What I mean to say is that... well I’m not sure what I mean to say, just that... shit, Ron, I’m sorry yeh heard that...”

“Just go away, Seamus. Just leave me alone,” came Ron’s feeble voice, barely above a whisper. A sigh from Seamus, but no movement. “Please.” Ron added, barely audible.

“I... alright.” Ron watched as the feet stood and moved away from the front of the stall. As the door opened and closed behind Seamus, Ron felt himself shivering. What’s your bloody problem, Weasley? He looked up at the showerhead and realized the water had gone completely cold. Shite. It’s freezing. He took his time getting dried off and making his way back to the dormitory, worried Seamus may have taken some sort of detour and he would end up running into the other bloke.

Ron opened the door slowly to the boys’ dormitory, cursing as the door squeaked and made such a racket in the quiet room. He didn’t dare look toward Seamus’ bed for fear that he wouldn’t be there--or worse, that he would be there and watching Ron as he made his way across the room.

When he reached his bed he sat on the edge, his last thought running through his mind repeatedly. His elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward slightly, holding his chin in his hands.

He’d done that before, hadn’t he? Watched Seamus walk across the room. No. He’d watched them all. Even Neville, though not as much as the others. He didn’t want to think about how many times he’d watched Harry in the showers--too long for a boy claiming to be straight.

He felt a twitch in his lower regions and dug his nails into his scalp, screaming at himself. No. He wasn’t gay. He never was. Everyone looked, didn’t they? Everyone had to look at least...

He felt eyes on him and turned suddenly, catching Seamus’ eye. He stared at the boy who looked frightened at being caught, yet didn’t look away from Ron. There was something in his face that scared Ron--a truth that said that Ron just may, in fact, be gay. That is what made Ron feel something rise in his throat and run out of the room to the loo to throw up.


“Ronald Bilius Weasley! You get yourself down here right now or I’m coming up there!”

Ron felt a sudden drop in his stomach. Why had his mother come... that wasn’t his mother? “Hermione? What do you want?” He asked, sticking his head out of the boys’ dormitory door.

“I want to talk to you. So you get dressed and get your arse down here now.” She set her face--that face that just dared one to cross it and find out the consequences. Ron would always obey that face.

She led them out the front doors of the castle and only started speaking when they were walking along the grounds. “What’s the problem, Ron?”

“Didn’t you ask Harry about it?” Ron snapped.

“Yes and all he told me was that he said he knew you had a problem and told you that and you snapped at him.” Hermione looked over at him.

He stopped, anger taking over his features. “He said he knew what the problem was!”

“No, Ron, he said he knew there was a problem; he doesn’t know what the actual problem is because you haven’t told anyone.”

Ron looked flabbergasted. “Oh.”

Hermione looked at him in disbelief. “Oh? All you have to say is ‘oh?’ Ron, I demand to know why you’ve been avoiding everyone and I demand to know now.” If she’d have stomped her foot on the ground, it would have made her look as if she were throwing a tantrum. But Ron knew better than that. He knew better than to mistake Hermione’s firmness for stubbornness. If she wanted to know, she’d bloody find out one way or another. It would be only a matter of time.

“I don’t want to talk about it Hermione. If I wanted to talk about it to everyone, I would have done that already, don’t you think?” He started walking again, Hermione standing there apprehensively for a while and then stalking after him.

“Alright Ron, then don’t talk about it. That’s bloody fine. But as things stand right now, you aren’t just ‘not talking about it.’ You’re not bloody talking at all. It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about whatever the hell is bothering you with your best mates, but you will not ignore everyone and hole yourself up like some sort of pouting child. If you think you can’t talk to anyone until you’ve fixed your ‘problem’ then you best get to confronting and fixing that problem right away because I’m tired of this and Harry’s tired of this and mostly, we are just all really bloody tired.” She turned and left him alone.

Confront the problem? How was he to do that? The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to Seamus. And Seamus was the problem. Ron didn’t have any sort of doubts of his sexuality until he’d heard Seamus talking about it.



“Ron.” It was Dean. Merlin, were they going to send the entirety of
Gryffindor after him before they realized he didn't want to talk to the lot of them?

“Don't even start, Dean. Just leave me alone.” Ron was on his bed, looking at his homework, but not doing it. He now had to avoid Harry because the bloke always looked like a lost puppy when Ron came near and Hermione because... well actually she was avoiding him but he pretended it was the other way around.

“Start what? Fuck, mate, why are you such an arse lately? No wonder everyone is avoiding you. So what if Seamus thinks you'd be gay? That doesn't mean you are. Why are you being such a prat about this?”

“I thought I said to leave me alone, Dean.”

“The fuck would I care what you say? If you're going to be a right bastard then I see no reason to a damned thing that you say. And all I was going to ask you is if I could borrow your Transfigurations book cos Seamus took mine. Never mind.”

Ron watched him leave the dormitory and sighed. Why was he losing all his friends because of this? Is this really what things were like when you are gay? You have no friends?


Ron didn’t even pay attention as two more weeks flew by without a word to anyone. It had been almost a month since he’d spoken to Harry (who seemed to have given up on him at this point) or Hermione (who still gave him fuming glances and scolded him and then said she wasn’t talking to him and to leave her alone). He was so wrapped around this concept of possibly being gay that he started to lose track of his studies, alongside his social life—if he ever really had one of those to begin with.

Leave it to McGonagall to notice. “Mr. Weasley. An owl would be doing better in your place at this point and time. I cannot understand why you are acting this way. Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter say they can’t help because you haven’t spoken to them in over a month. I’ve spoken to half of Gryffindor, Ronald, and there’s only one person who seems to know what the problem is.”

“Why does everyone think I have a problem anyroad?”

“If you didn’t have a problem, you’d at least be scraping at the bottom of the grading pool. You aren’t even in the grading pool as it stands now. You’re failing your lessons, Mr. Weasley and unless you find it to be important enough to you to worry on them again, I’ll be forced to contact your parents.”

Ron, who had seemed rather bored through this entire interview suddenly perked up, eyes thrown open wide and panic stretching over his face. He sat up straight in his chair. “Professor, please don’t tell my parents.”

“I won’t if you straighten out.”

Ron cringed. She had to use those words, didn’t she? Wait, did she know? No, she couldn’t. Unless...

“What do I have to do?”

“Well do your blo—do your homework, Mr. Weasley. Catch up, if the professors will allow you to. You’ll have to discuss this with all of them. And you have to talk to Seamus Finnigan twice a week for three hours.”

“What?” Ron looked as if she’d just expelled him.

“He is the one that stated he knew what was wrong with you and he is the one who expressed interest and helping you solve whatever is keeping you from your studies. I believe it’s a brilliant idea and you’re doing it or you won’t pass your classes, Ronald.”

“But Professor, he--”

“He is your friend, as are Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger and you would be wise to smarten up and stop pushing them away before you lose them forever, Mr. Weasley. Off with you then. I do expect that you will get things back in order or your parents will be here within minutes. I do know how they care about your school work.”

“Yes ma’am.”


Cruel. It was cruel and unusual punishment that he even had to be here--forced to sit in a room with Seamus for three hours at a time. The first session had already passed and nothing had been accomplished. Ron had stared at the wall and Seamus had said a few words to him, which Ron ignored easily enough. The second session went by almost the same, except Ron did answer Seamus once, but only to be a prick.

“Ron, can’t yeh even look at me?”

“I wouldn’t want to get aroused now, would I, Seamus?”

That had shut the other bloke up quickly enough.

Session three was now upon him and he couldn’t have walked any slower to the room unless he opted to crawl all the way there. When he opened the door, Seamus was already there like usual, but he was standing up instead of sitting. He was leaning on the wall next to the door and Ron gave him his best glare, then shut the door.

Seamus didn’t move and Ron felt like he couldn’t move under the bloke’s gaze either. “What are you doing, Seamus?”

The Irishman’s head shook, but he didn’t say a word. Seamus knew, even when they were friends, that when people didn’t answer his questions it made him angry. Put that pet peeve on top of the fact that he was forced to be here in the first place and his red-headed temper raised quick as all hell.

He grunted, his hands balling into fists. The scowl that was already present on his face turned nastier and redder. “The fuck do you want, Finnigan?”

Seamus still didn’t answer. He did move, however, which startled Ron into stillness. He really wished that unexpected things like this didn’t make him freeze, especially now.

Seamus was practically on top of him in seconds. He’d grabbed Ron by the shoulders and pushed him back against the stone wall—hard enough that Ron felt the uneven bricks rip his shirt. Seamus stared at him for a few seconds and Ron stared back at him, fearful and weak. Ron had always been wary of Seamus’ temper. An Irish temper was much scarier than a red head’s.

The bloke didn’t hit him though. Ron was expecting him to, but he didn’t. He didn’t do a damned thing that Ron expected him to do, actually. After minutes of uncomfortable staring, Seamus leaned forward and kissed him. He fucking kissed him, right there, in the middle of an unused classroom during their stupid useless counseling sessions.

Seamus was kind in the kiss and that’s what freaked Ron out the most. That bloke looked anything but a gentle kisser. And why was he still standing here letting this happen? Ron’s foggy, confused head started to clear and the anger that had turned into fear rose as fury once more. He pressed hard on Seamus’ chest, but it was only hard enough to get the bloke to stumble back from him a bit. Then, without thinking, his fist was flying and hit Seamus square in the eye.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again, Finnigan! What the fuck do you think... I can’t believe you fucking did that!” Ron could be physically emotional just fine but when it came to explaining his emotions he was horrible. He blabbered and groaned and sometimes even made up words in fits of anger.

Seamus just nursed his eye, lying on the floor. When Ron stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, Seamus looked up with his one eye on Ron.

“I’m tryin’ to fucking help yeh, Weasley.”

“Help me? Fucking help me? By kissing me? By turning me gay?”

“Fuck, Ron, I can’t bloody well turn yeh gay. If ye’re gay, then yeh are. No one can make yeh that way. Are yeh really that fucking daft that yeh don’t know that?”

“Don’t tell me I’m daft, Seamus! I never even thought about this until I heard it from you! This never would have come up if you hadn’t--”

“It would have come up when yeh were wanking off and Harry’s face was in yer head.”

“I don’t think about Harry like that! Fuck you, Finnigan, you don’t know what you’re bloody talking about! What gives you the right to say I’m gay anyroad? What gives you the right to say that I fancy Harry and all this other shite? You aren’t even my bloody mate!”

Seamus didn’t answer that one. He hadn’t ever heard Ron say that they weren’t friends. Sure they weren’t close like they were with Dean and Harry, but that had never not made them friends. So he ignored it, even though he felt it sting the inside of his stomach.

“Because I’m gay.”

“You think that’s an excuse to go and... what? What do you mean you’re gay?”

“It means I like dick, Ron.”

“I know what it means, but when... you never said--”

“We aren’t mates. Why would I tell you?”

Ron should have seen that one coming. “Fuck. Seamus I didn’t mean... it was just... you just... do you fancy me?” Wait, that question wasn’t supposed to surface.

Seamus looked at Ron surprised. He smiled, small and faint as it was. “Not particularly right now, no.”

Ron, to his own surprise, smiled back. He took out his wand and healed Seamus’ eye and sank down onto the floor against the wall. Seamus joined him minutes later and they sat in silence. For a while anyway.

“Does anyone else know about you? Being gay, I mean.”

Seamus shrugged. “Dean. He’s always known though. Me sister knows, though I haven’t had the heart to tell me Mam yet.”

Ron lifted his knees and rested his arms on them, hands clasping and unclasping in the space between. “No one thinks differently of you?”

“Do you?”

Ron looked over at him and then looked forward again. “No. Still the same git you always were. Aside from the randomly attacking and snogging me bit.”

“That was hardly an attack, Weasley. Ye’re delusional because yeh were swept off yer feet by me wit and charm.”

“Has your wit and charm always included shoving your tongue in people’s mouths?”

“O’course! What else would charm be?”

Ron laughed, shaking his head. He became rather serious again, something Ron figured Seamus was accustomed to considering his lack of reaction. “What if I am gay?”

“What if yeh are? What if yeh aren’t? Doesn’t matter either way, mate. Yeh’ve made too big a deal out of this. Got Hermione and Harry almost giving up on yeh.”

Ron felt like Seamus should be a little more helpful than this if he was going to be the one to make Ron feel like this in the first place. “But I fancied Hermione before. I really did. We snogged and I liked it.”

Seamus didn’t seemed surprised by this statement and that bothered Ron. “Yeah? So maybe yer straight. Or maybe yer bisexual. Fuck Ron, I can’t figure this out for yeh, y’know.”

Ron hadn’t even considered the possibility that he could like both birds and blokes. He’d been so hung up on Seamus saying he was completely gay that he hadn’t thought about other options like it. He’d practically condemned himself to a life of miserable and lonely homosexuality without even thinking about what he really felt.

“This is all your fault, y’know. You confused the bloody fuck out of me, Seamus and I’m blaming you no matter what.”

Seamus raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t have bothered yeh so much unless it was true, mate.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, I think it is. Well, I’m not gay. I like birds. I do. But I have thought... and you said... and then you...”

Seamus chuckled. Ron was the most amusing when he was flustered like this. “Yeah?”

“Do you fancy me?” Ron actually looked over at him this time, eyes squinting slightly but his face otherwise completely serious and interested.

Seamus shrugged. “A little, yeah. I guess. I haven’t really thought about it much, but I guess so. Yeah.”

“I kissed you back.”


“I didn’t stop you. I kissed you back. Earlier.”

Seamus looked confused, which was usually Ron’s place. It made the red-head kind of proud. “So?”

“So maybe... oh for fucks sake, you aren’t that dense are you?” Ron hadn’t exactly done this a lot, but Seamus’ vulnerability or whatever it was made him want to snog him badly. And he really was an attractive bloke—Ron had no trouble admitting that.

Seamus seemed to get a clue as to what was going on in Ron’s head when the bloke leaned forward awkwardly, bumping his nose against Seamus’ and grunting before trying again. He like it well enough, though Seamus’ lips were chapped and rougher than Hermione’s had been. The hand that rested on his shoulder was bigger and heavier than Lavender’s and the tongue that slid along his teeth and against his tongue was stronger than any bird he’d ever kissed. That was probably because it wasn’t a bird at all, but a bloke—and Seamus.

When Ron ended up on his back with Seamus leaning over him, he didn’t seem to mind as much as he had thought he would. He didn’t mind that his jeans were getting tight because Seamus’ were too and there were no physical differences between them that made Ron feel awkward and uncomfortable like with a girl. And when Seamus’ hand was in his pants and Ron’s was in his he didn’t worry about what he was doing because he already knew what made him feel good and it was no doubt that it would feel good for Seamus to.

All and all, Ron found that being with a bloke—being with Seamus—was not half as bad as he would have thought before. In fact, he rather liked it.

“Ok fine, I like it a lot,” Ron huffed, lying on his back next to Seamus.

Seamus just laughed, shaking his head gently as he tried to catch his breath. They had about 20 minutes before McGonagall would come get them and both consented to pretend things weren’t fixed just so they could keep having to have these sessions.

If they were lucky, it’d be weeks before McGonagall caught on.

- fin -


( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
Dec. 28th, 2005 02:28 am (UTC)
i liked the fic a lot! i hope you keep writing so i can read more of your work :)
Dec. 28th, 2005 04:09 am (UTC)
Ron and Seamus! ::hearts:: What a cute and well-thought-out fic. Nice job.
Dec. 28th, 2005 07:16 am (UTC)
Wow, I really liked this fic, it was I good look into Ron's mind and liked how you had him battling with his own doubts... oh and the fact that it was with Seamus *wheeee*.... go the Irish.
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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