"Harry, it's sweltering, can't we please sit down?"
"No, Ron, I told you. We're not leaving Diagon Alley until we've found the perfect gift for Hermione."
"I already have a gift for her."
"One bag of Chocolate Frogs does not count. She always gives us really good presents, and we only ever get her chocolate. It's an important birthday this year - she'll be seventeen! We're not going to screw this one up."
"But her birthday isn't for another month!"
"...By which time, we'll be at school, and won't have time to find her a proper present. Whatever we get, I'll keep it hidden in my trunk until the Nineteenth, then we'll surprise her."
Ron glared at Harry, but failed to put much energy into it. Harry understood. This summer had been the hottest yet in anyone's memory, and the humidity hadn't dipped below ninety percent in weeks. Ron's hair was plastered to his soaked forehead, and his eyes looked washed-out against the steamy haze that filled the street.
"Can't we please at least take a break?" begged Ron, eyeing the tables at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour.
Harry rolled his eyes, but was secretly harbouring a craving for one of Fortescue's famous butterscotch sundaes. He nodded, and the two walked into the slightly-cooler shade of the interior.
The inside of the parlour, normally bright and cheerful, looked dark and dismal in this weather. Very few tables were occupied; it was too hot for most people to venture out of their houses, even for ice-cream. Harry and Ron nodded at a table of soon-to-be-second-year Gryffindors, who were sluggishly spooning up chocolate and strawberry mouthfuls. Even these twelve-year-olds obviously couldn't muster the proper enthusiasm for Fortescue's delectable treats.
"Wow," breathed Ron, with a bit more energy than he'd shown yet that day. "What are those?"
Harry followed his best friend's gaze to the display freezer by the counter. In addition to the usual tubs of Fortescue's finest flavours, the case contained several items the parlour hadn't offered in previous years: rich ice-cream sandwiched between chocolate biscuits, chocolate-covered bars of what must also be ice-cream, coated in bits of coconut, nuts or candies, and on the end, something else again. Ron was standing in front of these last items, on the verge of drooling.
"What do you think they are, Harry?"
Harry looked more closely. The frozen treats were about eight inches long, thin and round and slightly curved, and coated in chocolate with a stick protruding from one end.
"Frozen bananas," replied Florean Fortescue himself, who wore a jovial smile as he appeared from the back of the shop, despite the heavy sweat on his brow.
Harry and Ron greeted him happily, especially Harry, who still carried very fond memories of the days he'd spent studying here before Third Year.
Fortescue pointed to the new items in the freezer. "Just started making these after I tried them at a shop in Muggle London. They're bananas, is all, coated in chocolate, but they're really quite tasty. Care to try one?"
"I will," responded Ron eagerly, but Harry shook his head and ordered a butterscotch sundae with extra whipped cream and two cherries.
They made their way to a table in the back corner, where it seemed to be coolest. Ron carried his prize aloft, gazing at it with shining eyes. Harry's sundae arrived only moments after they sat down.
"So I was thinking, we should look at Flourish and Blotts next, because we know how much Hermione likes books, and then maybe Madame Malkin's to see whether we can find her something nice to wear, even though I'm not good at that sort of thing, oh, mmm, this is delicious. Oi, Harry?"
Harry blinked. He hadn't heard much of Ron's babbling, transfixed as he was by the fleck of chocolate that was melting unattended at the corner of Ron's mouth.
"Harry, are you alright?"
What's wrong with me? Harry wondered. This was Ron. They'd been best mates for six years. What did it matter if there was a bit of chocolate on his mouth?
These thoughts drifted to Harry as from a distance, though, as he was riveted to the very immediate vision of Ron's moistened lips pursing around the elongated treat. A very new sort of stirring in Harry's trousers greeted the sight, but he was too distracted to be surprised.
"Uh. Harry?" Ron's voice was becoming weaker, more faltering.
Harry was aware of his best mate's gaze, although his own eyes had not strayed from that supple mouth. He raised his fingers to take hold of the stem of one of his cherries, lifting the cream-covered fruit to his lips and teasing it with his tongue before his teeth finally caught it. The mouth grew slack about its chocolate-coated treat, piquing Harry's curiosity to glance at Ron's eyes.
The glaze over Ron's eyes had nothing to do with the heat in the room, which was rising rapidly in their corner. Harry, now too aroused to pretend he had any other intentions, maintained eye-contact while he reached for the second cherry.
Before the luscious, red sweetness could reach Harry's mouth, his wrist was seized by Ron's free hand. Giving over control, Harry watched Ron guide Harry's hand toward his own mouth, wrapping his wet, chocolate-smeared lips around the cherry and sucking it from the stem.
Harry was starting to feel lightheaded from the dearth of blood in his brain. Ron's shell-shocked expression was slowly giving way to a sly smile, which Harry did not yet have the presence of mind to copy.
When Ron reached out his other hand, Harry's eyes went all unfocused. The frozen banana was close enough, however, that Harry didn't need to see in order to do as Ron wished. Harry parted his lips softly, reaching forward to let the chocolate coolness lean along his tongue as he wrapped his mouth around it. His eyes regained their sight in time to watch Ron's throat bob nervously as Harry slid his lips lightly down the length of the frozen treat, tightening on the way back up. His groin gave a violent jolt as the image rose to his mind of Ron's mouth doing the very same thing in another location.
Having long-since abandoned thought, Harry dipped a finger into the liquid butterscotch and melting whipped cream. Quickly, before he could reconsider, Harry brought the sweet-coated digit to his best mate's mouth, and watched as it disappeared between two quivering, pink lips. Harry's eyes dropped closed as Ron's tongue curled around the finger, sucking it clean of the sticky syrup and fluffy cream, then running back down its length and sucking again.
Losing all sense of place or propriety, Harry pulled his finger out of Ron's mouth to trail it down the sweat-slicked whiteness of Ron's cheek and neck. He had shifted close enough in anticipation that it took very little movement for Harry to follow his finger with his own wet, parted lips. As his tongue brushed along the pulse-point in Ron's throat, Harry felt rather than heard a deep, hungry groan burst forth in his best friend's voice. His trousers had grown uncomfortably tight, begging for release.
Harry opened his eyes to find himself mere inches from Ron's mouth, the ravenous blue eyes boring into his own. The taste of salt and sweet mingled on Harry's tongue, driving him mad with a thirst that could only be quenched by sating this urgent, basic desire. His mouth went all dry in anticipation of feeling Ron's cool tongue slip between his lips.
As Harry was inhaling for the final descent into madness, Ron blinked, which caused Harry's eyes to refocus in turn. Awareness rushed back to him, of their surroundings, of the company that could be watching from the other side of the room.
"Um, Ron?"
The spell was broken. Ron blushed deeply and turned his eyes away.
Harry flailed to reach him across the growing divide. "Ron, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Still refusing to make eye-contact, Ron mumbled, "Yeah, we should be going. Hermione's gift and all."
Harry stretched a hand across the table, running his fingertips up the divides between his friend's knuckles. Ron's eyes snapped back to Harry's in surprise.
"No," spoke Harry softly. "I was thinking we should get the rest of this boxed up for takeaway."