After the Second Task, life got much better around Gryffindor. Sure, Ron revelled in the extra attention he got from Padma and the other birds over his role as an underwater hostage, but Harry never did anything but smile at him, which made Ron not even mind when Hermione ruined his story of heroism and adventure by reminding everyone that he had, in fact, slept through the whole thing. Ron minded quite a bit more when that Skeeter cow went after Hermione again and Snape ridiculed Harry and Hermione in his lessons over it, and Hermione started receiving all that hate mail, but Hermione bore it so well that Ron was able to drift easily back to his place of bliss, where, for the most part, everyone in his life was happy for once.

Hermione, apparently, was happy about Ron and Harry's relationship, and developed a tendency toward gazing from one to the other and back, a pleased little smile on her face, when they were all sitting around doing homework together. Neville had finally stopped writing his awful poetry, and although Ron never had found out why he'd been in such a foul mood, it could be assumed that the disappearance of sheets of strained verse was an indication that their author was happy again, so it hardly mattered. Seamus and Dean were as happy as ever, too; they were keeping to themselves more than they had before, but since this gave Ron more opportunities to steal moments alone with Harry, he wasn't about to complain.

Harry was the happiest of all. The prospect of four months without having to deal with anything Tournament related, and three of those months without even being expected to know what was coming next, had lifted such a weight off his shoulders that he was practically floating, nearly all the time. After he got the letter from Sirius and knew he would be seeing him again, his mood shot into the stratosphere. His high spirits had given him so much extra energy, in fact, that he had no way of burning it off except by flying or by spending time in bed with Ron.

Ron was grateful, of course, for his unbelievable luck. Not only was he the Thing Harry Would Miss Most ("I told you," Harry had said that first night after Ron had finished apologising for his snarkiness in the Lake), but Harry never seemed to grow tired of exploring Ron's body, pouring all of his newfound joy into finding newer and more exciting ways to give Ron pleasure and to invite Ron to give him pleasure in return. It's not as though he had to ask, of course. Ron was as enthralled with Harry as ever, and could imagine a future when he would do nothing but go to work, come home and bonk Harry until they were both so knackered they couldn't move.

Of course, events came and went during that time. Ron found out that he'd paid Harry for the Omnioculars in leprechaun gold, and that Harry hadn't even noticed when it had disappeared. It had really bothered him, this unconscious privilege that Harry held due to his vast wealth, but when he and Harry were naked together at night, there was nothing that held one of them above the other. When there was nothing but skin under their hands and lips and teeth and tongues, Ron couldn't be bothered to remember which of them was richer than the other.

Nor did Harry ever seem to mind, once they were alone in the bed, how caught up Ron could get in his arguments with Hermione. It wasn't that he didn't like Hermione - far from it - nor than he feared Hermione disliked him. They simply never seemed to meet up quite the right way; everything would be going fine, and then one would push the other's buttons in some tiny manner that would be imperceptible if it were anyone else, but because it was Hermione, because it was Ron, could never pass unnoticed or unremarked. Ron knew it drove Harry mad, and suspected there was something of jealousy or possessiveness in Harry's annoyance, but the bristling nerves were always smoothed away from the moment that Ron slid under Harry's blankets and tugged off his pyjama top, pulling Harry's thin torso close against his chest.

In the back of Ron's mind, though, one niggling little thought kept cropping up: if it was this good with him and Harry, could it be even better with him, Harry and Cedric? Without entirely realising it, Ron started watching Harry when Cedric was around. He tended to look and scowl when Cedric and Cho were together, and Ron had to admit the possibility that Harry might still have a very real crush on Cho. But when Cedric was alone or with other Hufflepuff friends, Harry's eyes turned a little glazed and starry, as though he might be wondering what could have happened if Cedric had joined him in the bath that night.

One evening, when Harry had taken Ron flying on his Firebolt and had flown him so high that the Anti-Vibration Charms had weakened and the hard shaft of the broom had pulsed against their crotches until they were both panting and pawing at each other to relieve the pressure, Harry dragged Ron unceremoniously into his bed before anyone else had even returned to the dormitory and started sucking him off before Ron even had both legs up on the mattress. It was only a minute or two before Ron was gasping and seeing stars, and he hadn't recovered at all before Harry had dropped his trousers and pants and was rubbing himself into Ron's open palm.

Reflexively, Ron grabbed hold and pumped his fist, looking up through his fringe into Harry's hooded green eyes. He was getting hard again only from watching Harry react to his touch, and couldn't repress the urge to pull Harry down on top of him where the grappled and ground against each other. Ron reached between them to cup Harry's balls and massage them gently, pleased to see Harry's still-bespectacled eyes go visibly crossed before they fell closed and his forehead furrowed in the effort to find that place, that moment, that delicious bit of the right kind of friction that finally sent him crying over the edge, spilling onto Ron's bare stomach.

Even then, Harry wasn't exhausted, but crawled immediately down Ron's body to nip and suck at Ron's thighs, taking Ron in both of his hands and pulling and gripping, climbing astride him as he worked so that his miraculously reborn member was pressed against Ron's, slipping and thrusting, bearing down with all his weight, which wasn't quite enough, but when Ron started to ache from frustration and grabbed Harry's hips and flipped them both over, it didn't take either of them long to find that point again, so that they forgot to keep quiet as they shouted each other's names, Ron almost crying with pleasure when Harry's slim hands gripped both of his buttocks firmly, directing him home.

A minute later, Harry's mouth had found Ron's nipple and begun to lick and bite and tease, drawing happily unbelieving groans from Ron, who was so knackered he couldn't imagine another go. Harry's hand was already sliding down his body to his hip, drawing their naked skin together, then apart for a moment as Harry's other hand found his wand and his mouth left the nipple for long enough to whisper a Cleansing Charm. Harry continued to stroke and to kiss many parts of Ron's body, waiting somewhat patiently for Ron to regain his energy. When he felt himself getting aroused again, Ron looked up into Harry's eyes - now shed of their glasses - to see an anticipatory expression. With a hint of pleading in his gaze, Harry whispered another spell. Ron smelled something delicious, like fresh berries, but couldn't find the source right away. He finally looked down to discover that Harry had coated his own groin with a slippery substance, which Ron quickly discerned he was meant to taste. He shifted himself down until he could reach to lick Harry gently. The flavour was sweet and succulent, like blackcurrant juice, and Ron immediately returned for more. He took more and more of Harry into his mouth with every motion, sucking and licking, seeming to taste more of the delectable substance the more he tried. He was enjoying himself so much, he was only dimly aware of Harry's breath growing shorter and shorter, until Harry dug all ten fingers deep into Ron's hair and gave a great thrust of his hips, pouring himself down Ron's throat, which Ron's swallowed like so much sweet jam. He'd barely finished swallowing, still hungrily sucking because the charm hadn't worn off, when Harry began to go hard again, so Ron kept going, devouring Harry and his blackcurrant charm until Harry finished again, and finally began to show signs of wearying.

Blimey, Ron thought to himself as he drifted off to sleep with his arms wrapped around Harry's naked body, if Harry keeps up like this, I mightn't be able to satisfy him anymore ...

He had almost fallen asleep when his mind added two words to the end of that thought: ... by myself ...