Ron gets a journal for his birthday, and he hasn't stopped writing in it since. When Harry's curiosity gets the better of him and he takes a peek, he is shocked, yet extremely elated at what he finds.

HPxRW, slash, lemon, language, and lots of yummy smut!

Bold: Harry's thoughts and POV of what is going on.

Italics: Ron's journal entries.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

The Journal

"Happy Birthday Ronald!" Hermione said, while handing Ron a neatly wrapped package.

He unwrapped it. It looked like a thick, leather-bound book.

"A book. Wow Hermione. Big surprise there," I said sarcastically.

Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"Look at the inside, she said.

Ron opened it up.

"Um, there's nothing written in here," Ron said, sounding confused.

"I know!" Hermione said enthusiastically.

She looked about ready to burst she was so excited. Ron and I just stared at her, looking bewildered. She rolled her eyes again.

"It's a journal!" she said.

"You mean you got Ron a diary?" I asked, trying not to laugh.

"No, not a diary. A journal!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, well um, thanks 'Mione," Ron said.

"Promise me you will write in it?" she asked.

"Don't worry, I will," Ron replied.

This time I rolled my eyes. All I could think was that there was no way that Ron Weasley would ever write in a diary, ever!


Okay, so I was wrong. All Ron has been doing for the past few days is scribbling in that damn diary. I mean, "journal," as he so often corrects me. And when he writes in it, his face gets all red and he looks quite flustered, but he still looks so damn cute!

I have no problem admitting to myself that I'm gay, it's just admitting it to Ron that's the problem, especially since I really like him as more than a friend. I mean, he's not even gay for God's sake!

He's writing in his journal right now. He's just sitting on his bed writing away. We are alone in our room. Everyone else is in the common room. I'm sitting on my bed trying to write a charms essay, but Ron is really distracting me. All I can think about is what he is writing in that journal. It is killing me!

"Ron?" I ask.

He looks up with wide eyes.

"What?" he asks.

"I know I've asked you like ten times, but what the hell are you writing about in that bloody diary?"

"It's a journal," he says, "and just stuff."

"Please just tell me. I'm curious," I beg.

"I can't," he says.

I sighed. I knew he wouldn't tell me, but it was worth a shot. After a few moments of silence, he closed his journal and carefully placed it in his school bag.

"Well, I'm going to take a shower," Ron says.

He walks into the small bathroom connected to our room. I try and shake the thoughts of Ron in the shower from my head. I try to concentrate on my essay, but now I'm even more distracted by the fact that Ron's journal is just feet away from me, and that I'm all alone. It would be so easy to read it, but that's an invasion of privacy. But one peak wouldn't hurt, would it? Nah.

I get up and walk over to the foot of Ron's bed where his bag is. I open the bag and see his journal right on the top. I grab it and sit down on Ron's bed. I open it, but then quickly shut it. This was wrong. But curiosity got the best of me and I opened up to the first page and stared at Ron's nearly illegible scrawl.

Dear Journal,

Okay, so Hermione got me this, so I guess I might as well use it. I'll write about the one thing that I can't tell anyone. That way, I can get it off my chest. Well, first off, I'm gay.

My heart skipped a beat. Ron was gay? Oh my God! How could I never have known? I kept reading.

I guess I've always known that I was different. I've never told anyone this. Not even Hermione or Harry. Well, I especially couldn't tell Harry, considering I kind of really like Harry more than a friend.

Holy mother fucker.

I think it all started back in third year. We were changing in our room and I looked over and caught a glimpse of Harry starkers, and, well, I kind of got like this massive boner. I tried to deny it, but then I started having very sexual dreams about Harry that left me waking up in a sticky mess. It got worse, because whenever I was having a wank, thoughts of Harry invaded my mine. I can't help it. He drives me mad! He really does.

Oh my God! Ron likes me like that? I give him boners and wet dreams? He thinks about me when he wanks? I mean, he makes me hard and I've had loads of wet dreams about him, but I still can't believe this. Wow! Why did he never tell me how he feels?

I know that I can never tell him this, or he would freak out, and it could ruin our friendship.

Oh, that's why. I wouldn't freak out at him. I would just snog him senseless. I'm such a hypocrite though. I can't blame him. I never told him for the same reason.

I have tried things with girls, but they felt all wrong. I only did them so that people wouldn't think I was gay. I'm in the library with Harry right now, and all I can think about is how I want to kiss him, to touch him, to run my hands through his black, silky hair, and mess it up more than it already is. I just love the way his hair is always a mess. He's reading this book about Quidditch and he keeps biting his lip. He looks adorable. Fuck! I guess my face is really red because Harry just looked up from his book and is staring at me with a strange look on his face. I better stop writing.


I imagine kissing Ron. I imagine putting my hands in his fiery locks. I remember that day in the library. I wasn't reading a word of that god damn book. I was thinking about Ron. He won't be in the shower for much longer. I start to read faster.

Dear Journal,

Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! It's late and I'm in bed, and I can tell that Harry is wanking off right now. He's making all these noises, and he thinks that everyone is sleeping. He doesn't think that anyone can hear him, but I can, and it's killing me! The thought of it makes me sad, because he's probably thinking of my fucking sister. But then again, it's also making me extremely hard. Oh my God! You should hear him. This must be one hell of a wank. I'm trying not to think about it, I really am. I think he just came. He practically screamed something. It was probably "Ginny." Ugh! Oh fuck! Well, I have to go now. I need to take care of this problem. This HUGE problem! I can barely write.


I get extremely hard thinking of Ron wanking off while thinking about me. I can remember that night too. I was so hard. I had seen Ron changing into his pajamas, and that was it: instant hardness. I did have one hell of a wank that night, but it wasn't Ginny's name that I had called out. It was Ron's.

Dear Journal,

I'm in history of magic right now, and it's really boring. I've always had this fantasy during class of Harry leaning over and passionately kissing me. Then I say,

"But what about all these people?"

And then he says,

"Who cares? I need you now!"

Then we rip each other's clothes off and he fucks me senseless on top of the desk while everyone else just watches us. But we don't care, because we had wanted to do this for so long that nothing else matters.

I can't write about this anymore. I'm getting myself worked up. I've been doing that a lot lately.


I gulped. I had always had a similar fantasy. I want him so bad! The thought of Ron and me fucking makes my already hard cock get even harder. I'll have to take care of it later. I have to finish.

Dear Journal,

I realize that I haven't really been writing a lot. I mean, all of my entries have been really short, so I'll try and make this one longer. Well, this morning I woke up and realized that I had had a wet dream. So after saying "fuck" about five million times (it really is my favorite word),

I chuckled. He did say "fuck" a lot. He had quite a dirty mouth. I found it adorable. I want to hear him say, "Fuck me, Harry!"

I performed a simple cleaning charm. I can't remember the specifics of the dream, but it involved me and Harry in a steamy shower.

I smiled. A steamy shower? Naughty boy.

I feel guilty about having all these dreams about Harry. I feel so terribly depressed sometimes to know that even if Harry were gay, he would never like me. I mean, he's Harry Potter, the boy who lived, and I'm just pale, freckly, and poor Ron Weasley. I mean, he's famous, and I'm a nobody. You know what I said about writing a lot before? Well, I can't now because I'm too fucking depressed.


Ron was depressed because he doesn't think he's good enough for me? That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. I want to hold him and tell him than I'm not good enough for HIM, not vice versa. I want to tell him that I love him.

Dear Journal,

I think Harry is getting very suspicious. He always stares at me when I write in my journal and asks me what I'm writing about so intensely. I tell him it's nothing, but I think he is beyond curious. Like right now for example, he's staring at me again. God! I wish I could just go over there and tell him that the only things I've written so far are about him and how much I love him. Then I would kiss him and he would kiss me back. But as I have pointed out before, Harry would never like me like that. Fuck, now he is trying to look at what I'm writing. I have to stop…

"Harry, what the hell are you doing? Is that MY JOURNAL?"

I froze. Ron was staring at me. His face is nearly the same shade of red as his hair. I didn't know if it was from anger or embarrassment, or possibly both. His hair is still wet from the shower. He's wearing a pair of slightly too small striped pajamas. God! He looks fucking irresistible.

"I was just…" I stammered.

"You were just READING my journal, my PRIVATE thoughts! How much did you read?" he asked, outraged.

He walked over and snatched it out of my hands. He saw the page I was at.


"Oh my fucking God! Harry, I can explain. I was just…"


"I mean, I don't know! Why did you read that? You were NOT supposed to read that…"

Ron looked like he was about to burst into tears.



"I read most of those entries."

I stood up as I said this.

"Harry, I can explain."

I ignored this and continued what I was saying.

"I have to tell you," I said.

"Harry, listen. I was only…"

"I have to tell you that…" I began again, while taking a step towards him.

"I was just…"

This time I cut him off by pressing my lips against his. I kissed him softy. It felt amazing to finally be kissing him. I pulled back. Ron's eyes were as wide as saucers and his mouth was slightly open.

"I have to tell you that I feel the same way," I finally said.

"I, um, I, wow!" Ron stuttered.

He dropped his journal and I leaned in and kissed him again. This time, he was more responsive. He put his arms around my neck, deepening the kiss. Our tongues moved together, fighting for dominance. Ron was winning. I grinded my already hard cock against his leg. I could feel his erection too. We slowly made our way over to Ron's bed. I got on the bed and Ron climbed on top of me, lifting his weight with his arms. He just stared at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I just can't believe that this is actually happening," he said breathlessly.

"I know. Me neither."

He then leaned in and kissed me on the mouth again. He began to grind his erection against my own. It felt incredible. He kissed my jaw, then my neck. With one hand, he pulled my t-shirt over my head. He then began to plant kisses on my torso. He sucked on one of my nipples, causing me to let out a moan. He began to suck the other one, swiveling his tongue around it and nipping it with his teeth. He started kissing lower and lower, until he was at the waistband of my pants. He began to unbutton and unzip them. He slid them off in one swift movement. He rubbed my erection over the fabric of my boxers. I arched my back, begging for release.

"Ron, ah! Please!" I begged.

He glanced up at me with a wicked gleam in his deep blue eyes. He inched my boxers off painfully slowly. I gasped as he finally grasped my erection with his large, slightly calloused hand. He brought his lips down and placed a kiss at the head of my cock. He licked the pre-come that had formed there, and then began moving his tongue in slow, circular motions around the tip of my cock. I let out a moan. It felt fantastic, but I needed more.

"Ron!" I pleaded.

He finally took the head of my cock into his hot, wet mouth. Pleasure coursed throughout my entire body. He massaged me with his tongue and took me deeper into his mouth, until I was deep into his throat. I began to thrust into his mouth. I was close. He bobbed his head up and down in rhythm with my thrusting. I grasped at the sheets, grabbing fistfuls of them tightly, desperately trying to hold on.


I exploded into Ron's waiting mouth. It turned me on to see that he swallowed every drop of my cum. He looked me directly in the eye and licked his lips.

"You're fucking delicious," he said.

He came up and kissed me again so that I could taste myself.

"That was incredible!" I said.

Ron smiled.

"Now it's your turn," I said, while flipping Ron onto his back so that I was now on top of him.

I slowly unbuttoned his nightshirt, revealing a smooth, muscular torso. I kissed his shoulder, and then moved to his collar bone. I began to kiss lower, planting kisses everywhere, nipping and lightly biting in some spots. I stuck the tip of his nipple between my teeth and rubbed my tongue back and forth over it.

"Oh God, Harry!" he said, as I continued my ministrations on his pink nipple.

I then moved to his other nipple. I kissed every possible inch of skin until I got to a deliciously sexy trail of hair from his belly button to the waistband of his pajama pants. I fingered the waistband and then slipped my hand inside of them. I grasped his cock, which was slightly thicker than mine. He let out an elicit moan. I slowly inched off his pajama pants with my left hand while still holding his cock with my right. I slipped his pants off completely and they fell to the floor. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. I slowly began to pump him, using the pre-come that had formed as lubricant. I started slowly, and then gradually began to build steam. I cupped his balls with my other hand and began to tease them. Ron kept making these adorable noises at the back of his throat.

"Harry, I'm, I'm, close!" Ron choked out.

I desperately wanted to taste him, so I stopped pumping him.

"Harry!" Ron protested.

But then I took the head of his practically throbbing erection into my mouth and swirled and massaged him with my tongue. I pumped him in and out of my mouth in a rhythmic pace.

"Harry, I'm coming…now! FUCK!"

He shook slightly as his delicious seed shot into my mouth. I swallowed every glorious drop. I licked the tip of his cock, not wanting to miss a drop. When I was sure that there was no cum left, I pulled myself up and kissed his shoulder.

"Harry, that was fucking fantastic."

"Mmmmm. Yes it was," I said, kissing his neck.

"I'm still pissed at you though."

"What? Why?"

"For reading my journal, you nosy bastard."

I leaned in and kissed him quite passionately. I pulled away.

"Forgive me?" I asked.

"Hmmmm. Wait, why was I mad again?"

"Because I read your diary."

"It's a fucking journal!"


A/N: I haven't decided whether I like this one or not. I hate the ending, but I'm always bad at endings, also, i wasnt sure if I rushed the smut scene or not, let me know what you think! Please please please (I'm begging) review!! Also, I'm aware that the title is lame. My titles are always very uncreative. Sorry!