~*~*~
Seventh year had been very difficult for Harry Potter so far. He had a full load of courses that kept him constantly challenged, he was leading the D.A., which was now a sanctioned school activity, and he was training harder than ever at Quidditch. Those were the things at which he still had hope of being successful.
His list of failures was longer as well. He’d led his D.A. mates right into a trap at the end of last term, and Susan Bones still had not been released from St. Mungo’s. His Occlumency was determined to be a complete failure, and Snape never missed an opportunity to remind him of it. Harry was supposed to be doing additional Defense Against the Dark Arts in order to prepare himself to fight Voldemort again, but he was falling woefully behind. And he couldn’t even get something as normal as dating right; it figured that he’d find himself more attracted to boys than girls. In short, his life was an utter disaster.
In contrast, Ron had really come into his own this year. He had become serious about his studies at the end of last year, so much so that Dumbledore had made him Head Boy. He had become an excellent Quidditch player, so that it was no surprise when he was named Quidditch Captain. And he’d become unbelievably attractive sometime over the past year, but the change was so gradual that Harry didn’t notice until he went to stay at the Burrow last summer after they had been apart for a month.
Really, Ron was everything that Harry felt he could have been if he hadn’t had the Prophecy hanging over his head. He was nearly choking on the pressure of it. It wasn’t as though he was jealous of Ron – okay, perhaps a little jealous. What really unnerved Harry was the feeling that the balance of power in their relationship had shifted. Ron was no longer Harry’s sidekick – he’d accomplished an impressive amount without any assistance from Harry whatsoever. The interesting thing was that as Ron became more assertive and independent, Harry felt drawn towards him in a new way – a romantic way. Ron had charisma, and Harry wanted to be with him all the time. Unfortunately, Ron showed no sign of returning those feelings.
God, he hated his life sometimes.
Three weeks into the term, he finally got some relief. Concerned that Occlumency did not appear to keep Voldemort from Harry’s mind, Professor Dumbledore loaned Harry his pensieve. It was to store any of Harry’s memories that contained knowledge that would be dangerous in Voldemort’s hands. Dumbledore was hesitant to use a simple memory charm to wipe them out on the grounds that any information which was useful to Voldemort would be useful to Harry as well, and he needed the ability to retrieve it at some point in the future.
On the surface, the pensieve seemed to be a godsend. Not only did it ease Harry’s worries about inadvertently passing along information to Voldemort that might put his friends in danger, it also helped to reduce the clutter in his mind. Now with only half as much to worry about, Harry was able to focus on his studies, his Defense lessons and Quidditch. His grades improved immediately, and he was definitely back into his Quidditch groove once more.
The unintended side effect, though, was that it allowed his brain entirely too much time to think about Ron. The first thing he thought about every morning was Ron. Harry did pretty well focusing on his lessons, but as soon as they were over, he was wondering where Ron was, and whether he’d have Head Boy duties that afternoon, and if Harry could arrange to study with him in the evening. And his thoughts became increasingly sexual as well, with most of his fantasies now involving Ron in various states of undress and in a multitude of different positions. Harry was wanking almost nightly, frequently with the curtains of his four-poster pushed aside so that he could watch Ron sleep while he did it.
It was getting to be a problem.
One afternoon, Harry was sitting at a table in the nearly-empty common room fantasizing about whether it would actually be possible to have sex while flying on a broomstick, when he was interrupted by Hermione. She’d now switched to two book bags, since one was no longer sufficient, but it gave her a stooped-old-lady look when she toted both bags to and from the library. She slammed them on the table, causing Harry to jump in surprise.
“Sorry, Harry,” she said as she flopped into the chair next to him. “I should have seen that you were off on an adventure in your mind again.”
Harry glared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Only it seems that you spend an awful lot of time gazing off into space with a silly grin on your face.”
“I’ll try to remember to revert back to my ‘surly teenager’ ways.”
Hermione looked at him anxiously. “Come on, Harry. Don’t be upset with me. I think it’s nice to see a smile on your face now and then – a refreshing change from last year.”
Harry was suddenly struck with a crazy idea. Hermione seemed to know everything; maybe she’d know the answer to the one question that was driving him nuts. “Hermione, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you know anything about being in love?”
Hermione blushed, seeming a bit flustered by his question. “A little, I guess. Why?”
“Because I’ve been trying to figure out how someone knows if they’re in love with someone else. Do you just know? Or is there some list of criteria and if you meet enough of them, then you’re definitely in it?”
If Harry had been more observant, he’d have seen the wave of relief pass through Hermione as she quickly determined that Harry was referring to himself instead of to her. “Well, I’m no expert, but I think it’s just a feeling you have. You can’t stop thinking about the person, and your body has a strong physical reaction – like butterflies in your stomach – whenever they’re near you. I’m told it can happen between two relative strangers or even with a person you’ve known for a very long time; you wake up one day and they seem different.” She paused, desperately wanting to pry, but knowing that doing so would only push Harry away. “Does that help?”
“Yeah, a little, I suppose.”
“So…is there some girl in your life that’s making you feel those things?”
“Nope,” Harry answered truthfully. “I think the girls of Hogwarts are all safe from me for the time being.”
Hermione seemed a bit disappointed after that, and she left to return her books to the dormitory before dinner. She’d unknowingly given Harry a lot to think about.
~*~*~
Harry and Ron trudged up the stairs to their dormitory following their afternoon classes. Harry had been finding it increasing awkward to spend time alone with Ron now that he was certain that he was in love with him. It came as a relief to find Dean, Seamus and Neville carrying on a lively conversation about sex, for something new and different.
“You’re so full of shit, Finnigan,” cried Dean as they entered the room. “I know for a fact you haven’t got in her pants. Parvati told me Lavender spent an entire evening complaining that you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, mate.”
Seamus huffed. “I’ll have you know that we’ve got a date tonight in the Astronomy Tower. She wouldn’t have agreed to go there with me if she wasn’t ready to put out.”
Dean chuckled. “You’re about as subtle as a sledgehammer. She’s probably just setting you up.”
“Nah, she wouldn’t do that. Lavender’s a class act. Besides, if she changes her mind, I’ll just guilt her into it. The ladies can’t resist the Finnigan charm, especially when it’s combined with a healthy dose of Catholic guilt.”
Dean walked over to Neville’s bed and sat down next to him. “Don’t listen to him. You see, mate, you have to be subtle and just a little bit sneaky. Compliment her hair – or in Luna’s case, her unusual jewelry. Tell her she’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen – how she’s different from all the other girls. Then let her know that you’ve always been shy about making that first move. Girls eat that up. Then tell her that she’s so special, and that you wouldn’t even ask except that it appears you might die if you can’t have more of her.”
“That really works?” Neville asked skeptically.
“Maybe it works for him,” interrupted Seamus, “but I’ve got quite a lot of action using the old ‘I’m gonna get blue balls’ trick. You can’t go wrong with the guilt trip method, Neville.” He suddenly noticed Ron and Harry watching them. “Don’t you think I’m right?”
“I have nothing to add to this conversation,” Harry answered noncommittally.
“You’ve got to play to win, Harry,” said Dean as he walked back over to his bed and picked up his bag. “I’m going to the library for a spell. Anyone else want to join me?”
“Yeah, I’ll go,” said Neville.
Seamus nodded. “I might as well go too. With any luck, I won’t have time for studying tonight.”
The three boys thundered down the stairs, leaving an awkward silence in their wake.
“I don’t think they’re right, you know,” mused Harry.
“Who, what?” said Ron with a strange look on his face.
“About Luna,” Harry explained. “Luna isn’t going to be tricked or guilted into ‘going all the way’. He should just tell her that he wants to do it; explain how much it’d mean to him. She’d probably be rather keen.” Stupid idiot, Potter, he thought. Try taking your own advice.
“I don’t think girls work like that, Harry.”
Of course, Harry had no idea how girls worked; Ron, at least, had a sister. But he was pretty certain that Luna wasn’t going to fall for the old ‘blue balls’ routine. “Luna is more straightforward than you think.”
Ron grunted. He was eying Harry strangely, and Harry couldn’t understand why he was getting so agitated about Luna.
“I doubt Dean or Seamus has ever had an actual conversation with Luna, yet here they are, giving her boyfriend advice on seducing her.” Harry shook his head, sadly. At least Neville was getting a little bit of something, which was more than Harry would ever get with Ron.
“The thing that worries me is the idea of Neville having a sex life,” said Ron. He blushed a little, and Harry wondered why Ron had suddenly become shy talking about sex.
“That’s harsh, Ron,” said Harry, grinning widely. “Neville deserves a sex life. We’re fit and healthy and seventeen. Even Hermione deserves a sex life.” Even you and me, preferably together.
“Harry.”
“Yes, Ron?”
“What did we agree on, when she was with Tony?”
Harry sniggered. “That we wouldn’t speculate on Hermione’s sex life?”
“Right. That.”
Harry laughed. He loved that expression on Ron’s face; perplexed and distressed and something else that Harry couldn’t identify. He wouldn’t be able to sleep now that he had this image of Ron in his brain.
“So how come you and I are the only ones who don’t seem to be getting any?” asked Ron glumly.
Because I’m in love with you and you like girls. “Perhaps it’s because we spend all our free time playing Quidditch,” Harry offered, thinking fast.
“Sure, but you’d think that all the time we spent handling our brooms would make us sought after as lovers,” he replied. If Ron only knew how often Harry handled his broom… He moved closer to Ron and stared suggestively into his eyes.
“Who says we’re not?” smirked Harry.
“Do you mean to say that someone is after you? I’d love to know who it is.” Ron looked shocked, almost…jealous?
I wish. “I never said they were after me...”
Ron gulped. “Me? You must be joking. No one is interested in me.” Harry gazed longingly at Ron, trying to tell him telepathically how untrue that was.
Harry cleared his throat. “You’d be surprised.” He waggled his eyebrows. Maybe if this conversation went well, he’d finally get up the nerve to tell Ron how he felt – not everything, but just enough to see if he had any interest. He moved just a bit closer to Ron, the desire to tell all teetering on the tip of his tongue. Just a few more inches and they’d be close enough to kiss. Did he dare? Where the hell was his Gryffindor courage?
Then Ron spoke. “Well, there is someone I wouldn’t mind...getting friendly with, but don’t ask because there’s no way I’m going to tell you.”
The bottom dropped out of Harry’s stomach and his face fell. So there was a girl. Damn, he should have figured as much. “I thought we told each other everything,” he said bitterly.
“Well not this,” said Ron. “Come on, Harry. Would you tell me who you liked?”
“No.” Not now. Never in a million years.
“So there it is. ‘S’not like it’s ever going to happen anyway. I mean, if it hasn’t happened by now...”
Ron's sentence trailed off, and Harry knew immediately that Ron had been talking about Hermione. Harry had been standing quite close to Ron, but Ron backed away quickly, rummaging for something in his trunk.
Ohgodohgodohgod, thought Harry, I’ve freaked him out by standing so close. Thankfully, he hadn’t confessed anything. Now that Ron had made it unintentionally clear that he had feelings for Hermione, Harry wondered why he’d never noticed it before. Well, he’d noticed something in fifth year – a certain chemistry between them – but he thought Ron was well over that. Had Hermione done anything to encourage him again? Harry hadn't been paying much attention to her, preferring to focus on Ron. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d missed some obvious clues.
He glanced over at Ron, who was flipping absently through his Charms book. He’d made Ron nervous and uncomfortable with his shameless flirting. He had to get out of the room before the silence became unbearable.
Harry turned away. “I’m going to take a shower before dinner,” he called to Ron, leaving the room as quickly as his legs would carry him.
~*~*~
Harry quickly scanned the bathroom – thank God no one else was in here. He slammed his fist against the cubicle, instantly regretting it. But, damn, he’d hoped that for once in his pitiful life he’d catch a break and be able to have what he really wanted.
Stripping off his shirt, he walked over to the sink and stared at his reflection. “I don’t know who you think you’re kidding, Potter,” Harry muttered aloud. “No one’s ever going to fall for you. Stupid of you to think you ever had a chance.” He sighed and reached over to turn on the water.
Still half-hard from his earlier encounter with Ron – back when he’d almost believed that Ron was interested in him, too – it didn’t take long for his hand to drift south. Under the warm water, he closed his eyes and let out a quiet moan. He imagined that it was Ron’s hand wanking him, as he fell into a lazy rhythm. Carefully pulling back his foreskin and rubbing his fingers over the slit, all Harry could think about was whether it would feel different if it were Ron touching him. What would Ron’s lips feel like wrapped around his cock? Would he take Harry’s length all the way inside his mouth? Would he rub that spot right behind his balls that felt so nice?
Lost in his fantasy, Harry moved his hand faster as the warm water splashed against his back. With his eyes still closed, it was easy to imagine that Ron was on his knees in front of him, sucking him off, while Harry called out his name. “Ron,” moaned Harry softly. “Ungh, Ron, you feel so good. Want to fuck your mouth, Ron. Oh… oh fuck… Ron!”
Harry’s come splashed all over the shower. He slumped back against the tile, panting heavily. This was going to have to stop. No matter how he felt about Ron, he’d only end up getting found out if he continued these fantasies.
The pressure in his groin now relieved, Harry toweled off and dressed. He was grateful to find the dormitory empty. Ron had undoubtedly gone off to find Hermione to see if she was the one Harry had referred to as being “interested” in him. Just as well – if Ron ever found out he’d been speaking about himself, Harry would never be able to live down the embarrassment.
~*~*~
The hell of having the risk of Voldemort invading Harry’s head occasionally was nothing compared to the hell of having to keep his desire for his friend to himself. He’d taken to avoiding Ron completely, not because he wanted to, but because he was afraid that he’d give in to the overwhelming urge to do something stupid like kiss him. His anxiety must have shown, because Hermione cornered him on the first day of the winter holidays.
“Perhaps you should see Professor Dumbledore about whatever is bothering you,” she said. “Or maybe it’s because you’re fighting with Ron again.”
“I’m not fighting with Ron. And nothing’s bothering me. I’m fine.”
Hermione tutted in that know-it-all way she had. “You certainly could have fooled me. I’m sorry I ever gave you a hard time about being cheerful, because now you’re brooding.”
“I’m not brooding!” snapped Harry. “Anyway, what’s it to you if I am? I’m entitled, don’t you think?”
Hermione patted his arm. “Well, you do have rather a lot of pressure on you. But I thought Dumbledore’s pensieve was supposed to help you with that. Wasn’t it intended to relieve your worries so that you could get on with your studies?”
Harry had forgotten he’d told her that. He knew if Hermione had any idea that Voldemort still occasionally searched his mind, she’d be very upset, and there was no point in both of them losing sleep over it.
“Yeah,” Harry said, slumping into one of the good chairs by the common room fireplace. “Maybe I’ll try that.”
After she left, Harry thought about it some more. Voldemort hadn’t tried to search his head for weeks, so he was definitely due. And what would he find? Aside from the school stuff, he’d mostly find memories of Quidditch practices, which he spent staring at Ron, and of wanking while staring at Ron, and basically, of watching Ron from afar like a lovesick puppy dog. Aside from the general humiliation of knowing that Voldemort might access his most private and intimate memories, Harry understood exactly what he might do with that information. Since Harry was so carefully protected, they could try to get to Ron instead, knowing that an attack on him would hurt Harry far worse than a direct attack on Harry. He had to protect Ron, even at the cost of not being able to replay those wonderful thoughts in his head over and over again.
His alarm over this realization steadily growing, Harry bolted up the stairs to his dormitory. Thankfully, it was empty. He reached under the bed and pulled out a black box that held the pensieve. When he lifted the lid, a silvery light shone from the bowl; these were his memories, carefully preserved for now, waiting for the time Voldemort was no longer a threat to Harry, the D.A., or members of the Order of the Phoenix.
Harry quickly added a slew of memories about Ron to the pensieve. It was wrenching to part with them, and he was grateful that he could still take them out and look at them every once in a while. He resisted the urge to watch them again now, a resolve that proved itself wise when he heard Ron’s voice in the stairway, hollering at some first year boy to clean up the mess he’d left in the common room.
Harry didn’t feel like talking to Ron right now. He’d let his guard down when he emptied his head of all of those memories, and he needed a few minutes alone to build the barriers back up – not to mention needing some time to get his prick under control. He quickly shoved the pensieve under his bed without bothering to put it back in its box, and pulled on his Invisibility Cloak, which he’d set on top of his trunk.
He’d only just passed Ron and exited the dormitory when the door slammed behind him. Good thing he’d been moving quickly, or else that door would have smacked him in the arse on his way out.
Still wearing his cloak, Harry descended the stairs and dropped into a chair in the empty common room. Ron must really be pissed off about something in order to slam the door like that. It was usually Harry slamming doors and fists and things. He wondered if Ron would even tell him what was wrong. It seemed that they hardly ever talked about stuff anymore. Harry missed Ron. A lot. If only he could keep his damn libido under control, then he’d be able to spend some time with his mate without feeling a need for a cold shower afterwards. He wished there was a way to put his feelings in the pensieve too.
Harry sat there for a few minutes. Ron still hadn’t come down – maybe something really was wrong with him. What kind of a friend would he be if he didn’t check up on him? This crush had him acting like a third-year girl, and it was time to put a stop to it. Harry pulled off his cloak and walked up the circular stairs to the dormitory.
He turned the handle and quietly pushed open the door. If Ron was needing privacy, Harry wanted to respect that. Merlin knew he’d needed privacy often enough during the past few weeks. Not seeing Ron on his bed, Harry stepped a little further into the room. He peered around Ron’s bed and saw the familiar silver glow of his thoughts flickering in the pensieve – the pensieve that was supposed to be hidden under his bed, but was instead in the middle of the floor between their beds with Ron’s head inside!
Harry’s temper was legendary, and it took about five seconds for Harry to get past the shock of seeing Ron looking at his thoughts to becoming irate about it. He couldn’t exactly remember what was in the pensieve that Ron shouldn’t see, but he knew he’d just dumped a bunch of memories about Ron in there, and they were probably still floating on the top. Bloody fucking hell!
He rushed to where Ron was crouched over the pensieve and looked inside. Ron was there all right and he was – watching Harry wanking! Holy mother of God, this was ten times more embarrassing that he thought it would be. What was worse, Harry couldn’t remember what was going to happen next, because the memory was no longer in his brain. He watched Ron gaping at the memory of him wanking. Then he heard the words… ‘want to fuck your mouth, Ron.’
Shit, he hadn’t really said that aloud, had he? He must have, because Ron murmured, “Oh my God.” That was it; he needed to get Ron out of here before he humiliated himself even more.
Harry grabbed Ron’s arm, flipping him around roughly before willing them both to leave the pensieve the way Dumbledore had taught him. Even though he was shorter than Ron and they were both kneeling on the floor, Harry seemed to tower over a cowering Ron. Harry was so angry he was shaking, and it was difficult for him to form words.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he shouted. “Nothing gives you the right to look at that! Nothing!”
Ron tried to get a word in edgewise, to apologize for doing something he knew was wrong. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I was worried—”
But Harry kept on ranting, not really making any sense, and almost on the verge of tears from his embarrassment. “How long have we been friends, Ron? Seven years. Seven fucking years, and yet you think that means you can help yourself to my most personal thoughts!”
“Just let me explain—”
“How the hell am I ever supposed to trust you now? God, you’re unbelievable…”
Harry went off into another tirade. He’d noticed that although Ron had looked very contrite sitting there on the floor while Harry knelt over him, as Harry continued to yell, Ron’s eyes seemed to get that glazed-over look they got when his mum started in on him.
“Harry!” Ron shouted almost directly in his face, grabbing onto Harry’s shoulders. Stunned, Harry stopped in mid-sentence. Ron immediately leaned over and kissed him firmly on the lips.
His mouth tingled with sensations. Ron. Kissing. Lips.
Ron kissed him again, this time pausing at the end of the kiss to suck on Harry’s lower lip. God, it feels so right, so perfect.
Harry gasped and his lips parted, and Ron pulled him closer, slipping his tongue into Harry’s mouth. He’d wanted to kiss Ron like this for ages, and it was better than he’d ever imagined. Harry groaned as he felt Ron’s kiss shoot fire all the way down to his groin. They were too far apart and Harry needed to feel more skin, so he climbed into Ron’s lap, sitting astride him. Still too far apart. He wove his fingers into Ron’s ginger locks and kissed him even deeper.
Finally, Harry felt Ron’s arms wrap around him, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Harry shuddered as Ron slipped his hands up under the material, his cold, shaking fingers in stark contrast to the heat radiating off Harry’s back.
The somewhat alarming thought of wondering where Ron had learned to kiss like this was immediately cut off by the guttural moan coming from the back of Ron’s throat. Harry moaned back and ground his pelvis down into Ron’s lap for good measure. A chill of excitement shot through Harry’s groin when he realized that Ron was just as hard as he was.
Ron pulled back some, so that their eyes met. Harry felt another surge of desire as Ron licked his lips, nervously. “I sh-shouldn’t have looked in the Pensieve,” Ron whispered.
Good God, why was Ron talking about that now? Harry moaned loudly in frustration. He truly didn’t care about that at the moment. He needed more of Ron – all of Ron.
“It doesn’t matter,” he answered, capturing Ron’s lips greedily. “I’m glad you did. I couldn’t go on like that.” In an attempt to divert further attempts at conversation, Harry kissed Ron soundly again.
Harry could feel Ron relax a little in his arms. Perhaps he just needed some encouragement. “I need you so much,” he moaned, punctuating his declaration with another kiss. God, this was so wonderful. Why had he been avoiding Ron? A whispered “I missed you,” slipped from his lips before he could stop it.
Ron responded to Harry’s words with another passionate kiss. Then he leaned back, locking his eyes on Harry’s. “I missed you, Harry,” he said, earnestly. “No more secrets, okay? I want to be friends, and I want to be with you.”
“Yes,” Harry whispered. “I want to be with you, too.”
In one short phrase, all of Harry’s prayers had just been answered. Ron wanted to be with him! With a keen sense of urgency, Harry kissed him again while his fingers moved to unbutton Ron’s shirt. Once the last button was undone, he opened it revealing Ron’s tantalizing freckled skin that had fueled more than one of Harry’s fantasies. Unable to resist, he trailed kisses down Ron’s neck.
Ron made quick work of removing Harry’s t-shirt, and they chuckled a bit as they had to untangle their arms so that Harry could slip Ron’s shirt off his shoulders. They pulled each other close again, their kissing now reaching a fever pitch as they touched each other everywhere they could reach.
A thrust from Ron’s hips urged Harry on to the next step. “Bed,” he gasped, hoping like hell that Ron wouldn’t take too long to get off the floor so they could touch again. Harry shed his clothes in record time, grinning when he saw Ron doing the same. They tumbled onto Ron’s bed, Harry calling for “more” as he tossed is glasses aside. He pulled Ron on top of him, and as Ron’s body pressed against his, Harry finally felt like they were close enough.
There was a disadvantage both to being smaller than Ron and being underneath Ron, because Harry was incapable of doing more than cupping Ron’s face as they kissed and running his fingers through Ron’s hair. Ron, on the other hand, was taking full advantage of the situation by shifting his weight and using one hand to thoroughly explore Harry’s chest. Once Ron’s fingers found his nipples, though, he realized that he didn’t much mind being at a disadvantage. Groaning, he arched his back involuntarily.
Seeing a positive response to his ministrations, Ron bent down to suck Harry’s nipple to a hard peak.
Harry’s body was rapidly becoming one large nerve ending. “Fuck, Ron,” Harry gasped and thrust up against Ron’s thigh again.
Ron rolled them onto their sides, and he boldly curled his fingers around Harry’s cock. Harry’s excitement now having rendered him completely incapable of coherent speech, he let out a weird gurgling noise instead. Fortunately, Ron interpreted this as a sound of approval, because he grinned at Harry, moving his hand up, over and around Harry’s shaft, running his thumb over the slit again and again.
God, he needed to show Ron how wonderful this felt. Harry reached down to grasp Ron’s cock, amazed at how hard it was and how much pre-come was leaking from the tip. His actions caused Ron to groan and move his hips to the rhythm of Harry’s strokes.
“Harry,” Ron whispered before he kissed Harry again. “That’s so good.”
“Yeah,” Harry moaned.
“Harry.”
“Yeah?”
“In the shower. You were thinking of me. When you touched yourself.”
“Yeah.” Shit, thought Harry. Why is he bringing this up again?
“What were you thinking of?”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up under his fringe. Does he seriously want to know? Perhaps if I give him a vague response… He hesitated before whispering, “Um, you. Using your mouth on me.” Please don’t let that freak him out.
Ron’s eyes went as wide as galleons. “Really?” Ron seemed surprised, but at least he didn’t bolt from the room.
Harry nodded, fervently. His face fell a bit when he noticed Ron blushing all the way from his ears to his chest. Damn it, why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut? Ron didn’t need to know that. He’d have been happier not knowing.
Then he kissed Harry again, catching his eye for a moment before kissing his way across Harry’s face and down his neck. It felt so nice that the bite to the collarbone shocked him. Harry jerked, surprised at how the bite had sent a jolt of electricity directly to his cock. Then Ron was at his nipples again, and Harry was unable to suppress his moans.
Ron seemed adamant on kissing his way down Harry’s body, so he let him, not realizing what Ron was intending to do until he’d settled between Harry’s legs. God, was he really going to suck him off? Harry wanted that more than anything, but he was sure that Ron was feeling forced into doing it. Hadn’t Seamus said that guilt always worked to get him what he wanted?
“Ron, you don’t have to do that,” Harry said, but squinting a bit without his glasses as he tried to see Ron’s face.
Ron looked adorable as he answered, “I want to,” with his fringe falling in his eyes seductively.
Harry’s eyes narrowed frantically as he tried to read the expression on Ron’s face.
With a smile, Ron bent down and licked Harry’s cock from base to tip. Sweet Merlin, this was the best thing he’d ever experienced. He could feel his cock harden even more as Ron wrapped his lips around it. There was no holding back the sound of ecstasy as Harry’s cock was engulfed further and further into Ron’s wet and welcoming mouth. Harry lost track of time as Ron sucked and licked and tongued his slit with enthusiasm. All his nerves were pulsing, and all of them led directly to his prick. He knew he couldn’t hold off much longer and he gasped, “Yes, fuck, yes, Ron.”
Ron dug his fingers into Harry’s hips maintaining his feverish bobbing and sucking, and Harry cried out as he spent himself into Ron’s mouth.
For a few moments, Harry couldn’t move. His legs felt like jelly and his hands were completely immobile, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, there was no tension in his body. And then he felt random tickling on his overly-sensitized skin where Ron was kissing his way up Harry’s body. Apparently the muscles in his face still worked, because he wore a goofy grin that made Ron smile before he bent down to kiss him.
Ron’s kiss was salty and bitter, and it was weird knowing he was tasting his own come on Ron’s tongue. But it wasn’t unpleasant – just different. Ron was urgently probing Harry’s mouth, and it reminded Harry that Ron needed some attention soon. Well, the urgent kissing and the erection of steel that was nearly bruising his thigh. Harry wanted to return the favor, to show Ron exactly how good he’d made Harry feel. And he would do that…just as soon as he could move.
But Ron wasn’t holding anything back, and pretty soon Harry’s hands were moving again, seeking out Ron’s muscular shoulders, his nipples, his arse. In a carefully calculated move, he rolled them to the side so that Ron was on his back and Harry was leaning over him.
Harry bent down to lick the hollow of Ron’s neck before kissing his way to Ron’s earlobe. “Ron,” he said with a low and slightly rasping voice, “that was the most fantastic thing I’ve ever felt. I want to show you.”
“Yes, God, anything,” Ron answered breathlessly. Their eyes met, and Harry could clearly see that Ron’s excitement had pushed him well past the realm of rational thought. He grinned as he thought about how much Ron was going to enjoy this, and his mouth proceeded to kiss and lick and suck its way to Ron’s cock in much the same way that Ron had done to him earlier. Ron’s moaning provided ample encouragement to continue.
When his tongue reached Ron’s navel, Harry repositioned himself so that he was between Ron’s slightly bent knees. Before touching his cock, Harry reached his arms back, one on each of Ron’s ankles, and he pulled them forward again so that his fingertips danced lightly up the insides of Ron’s calves and thighs. When they got to Ron’s hip joints, he completely bypassed Ron’s cock, and placed his hands, palm-side-down, on Ron’s hips. Harry rocked his body forward at the same time he moved his hands gently across Ron’s chest and then up to his shoulder, completing the full body caress. Pressing his hips against Ron’s, Harry bent down to taste his lips again, grinding into Ron’s erection as he did so.
Ron whimpered.
“Are you ready for me to suck you? Because once I start, there’s no stopping until you come in my mouth.” Somewhere deep inside, Harry knew it was sort of mean to tease Ron this way. But he looked so gorgeous with his flushed skin and swollen lips, and Ron was practically writhing beneath him. It was amazing and thrilling that he could be the cause of Ron’s excitement. It was so much more than he could have hoped for, and even more than he dared dream.
Ron’s plea was more of a squeak when it came out. “Fuck, Harry, you’re going to make me come before your mouth gets anywhere near there.”
“That won’t do at all,” Harry answered, and in one smooth motion, he crouched down so that his mouth was once again level with Ron’s prick. Opening wide, he swallowed as much as he could.
“Fuck!” groaned Ron.
Taking care to cover his teeth with his lips, Harry sucked on Ron’s shaft, bobbing his head to move his lips up and down its length. He tried to remember what he’d liked most when Ron had done this to him, but he’d liked everything so much, it was hard to decide what to do next. He swirled his tongue around the tip, licked Ron’s sac and the underside of his cock with broad strokes of his tongue, and then curled his hand around the base so that it moved up and down the shaft along with his mouth.
He could tell that Ron was going to come even before Ron called out, “Gods, Harry, I’m gonna…”
Harry moved a hand to each of Ron’s hips and held him as he arched his back and came with tremendous force. He continued to suck, even as he tried to swallow, wanting to ride out the aftershocks too. Ron giggled then, but Harry couldn’t tell whether it was because he’d enjoyed it or because Harry was tickling him as he licked Ron’s cock one last time.
At last, Harry stretched and nestled in next to Ron. They kissed again, this time without the urgency, but comfortable with the knowledge that they were both spent and happy. Harry moved his hand idly across Ron’s chest, stopping every so often to tease one of his nipples to a peak. It felt so normal, so perfect, to be lying here together.
Finally, Ron interrupted his musing. “Hey Harry, have you got any other good memories in that pensieve?”
After a stunned silence, Harry chuckled. “Truthfully, I don’t actually know what’s in there. Once the thoughts leave my head, I don’t remember what they are. I’m sure that there are others equally as humiliating as the one you saw.”
“Not humiliating – just incredibly hot,” Ron said, blushing as he saw Harry smirk at him. “What?”
“I should make you put one of yours in there, and we can perve over you next time.”
Ron looked aghast. “No way! If you were to ever watch me, I would die of embarrass—oh.”
Harry could see that with the shoe firmly on the other foot, Ron had a sudden comprehension of why Harry had been so upset before. He calmly said, “How about if we just stick to the real world for now.”
“Yeah, a good plan, that.”
~*~*~
“Come in. Come in, Harry,” said Professor Dumbledore as Harry poked his head into the Headmaster’s office. Harry sat in his usual chair opposite Dumbledore’s desk. He refused the small tin of sherbert lemon sweets and waited patiently for Dumbledore’s attention. “Now then,” the old wizard finally continued, “is there something I can do for you, or is this purely a social call?”
Harry wondered briefly if he should say ‘both,’ but he was anxious to get to the point. “I’m worried about something, Professor, and wanted to hear your thoughts about it.”
Dumbledore nodded for Harry to continue. “It’s about Voldemort reading my thoughts through my scar.”
“Has something happened? Has he tried to search your mind again?”
“No,” said Harry, “and that, in itself, is weird. But what I was wondering is whether you think he’ll try to find out who I’m close to and then hurt them or use them to lure me out of the castle, like he did before, with,” he gulped, “Sirius.”
Dumbledore said nothing while he stared at Harry, pondering the possibility. “I’m inclined to think not,” Dumbledore said after a while. “He’s used that tactic once with little success, and he’d have to know that we’re guarding against that very thing.”
“But my friends,” Harry blurted out, “Ron… Well, I know you’ve put extra protection on me, but Ron and Hermione don’t have guards or extra restrictions like I do. I can’t let anything happen to them. I’d die…”
Dumbledore broke out into a wide grin, blue eyes twinkling as they so often did when he was amused. Harry didn’t think he’d said or done anything funny, so it was slightly distressing.
“I assure you that I have never chosen anyone to be Head Boy or Girl who wasn’t fully capable of taking on powerful wizards like the Death Eaters. But I think I can put your mind at ease in another way.” Professor Dumbledore shifted, leaning forward in his chair. “Do you recall what saved you from Voldemort’s attack on you as a baby?”
“Yeah,” said Harry, nodding. “It was protection because of Mum’s love and sacrifice.”
“That’s correct. And then you remember, don’t you, why Professor Quirrell couldn’t kill you during your first year here?”
Harry was not sure where Dumbledore was headed with this. “You said it was the same protection, my mother’s love.”
“Yes, and it was your parents’ love for you that helped you escape when Voldemort returned to bodily form in the graveyard that night. And then, when he possessed you, at the Ministry—”
“Actually, Professor, I don’t remember that. I think I put it in the pensieve.”
Dumbledore smiled. “It was your love for Sirius that made it impossible for Voldemort to possess you for long. And then, the Death Eater attack last year…the love and loyalty of your friends cast a shield of protection around you that no ordinary spell could penetrate.” He caught Harry’s eye and glared at him with intensity. “Do you not see the pattern here?”
Harry didn’t quite understand. “Well, yes, love and loyalty, but Professor, I don’t see how—”
Holding up a hand to silence Harry, Dumbledore casually sat back in his chair again. “Perhaps Occlumency was the wrong approach to take with you. Though you are a powerful wizard, Voldemort is equally powerful if not more so, thereby putting you at a disadvantage when matching magic against magic. But I’d be sadly mistaken if you couldn’t win a battle of the heart each and every time.”
While Dumbledore launched into a new train of thought in his head, Harry was left with his brain spinning. What the hell? Was he saying that the two excruciating years of Occlumency with Snape would never have worked anyway?
“Harry, when was the last time you felt Voldemort enter your mind?”
Harry thought for a moment. “It was right before you loaned me that pensieve. He’d been a regular visitor before then, and now, nothing.”
Dumbledore nodded distractedly. “Think, for a moment, about your emotional state since then. Have there been any particular feelings that Voldemort might have found uncomfortable?”
“Do you mean love?” Harry felt his face flush. Mere words could not express his lack of desire to discuss his love life with Professor Dumbledore. “Er…well…maybe some feelings… I don’t know.” Shit. How does he always seem to know stuff?
A kind smile crossed the headmaster’s face. “Why don’t you consider the possibility then? If my hunch is correct, the very best thing you could do for yourself, and your friends, is to follow your heart wherever it leads you.”
Harry nodded stupidly.
“And I’ve always thought that a bit of affection would do you a world of good. Now, is there anything else I can clear up for you?”
“No, thanks, Professor.”
Harry practically bolted out of the room and down the stairway. He could never exactly be sure what Dumbledore meant, but Harry thought he might have just been told that it would be helpful to the Order for him and Ron to have sex.
God, he loved his life sometimes.
finis
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