Iceberg - H/R - NC-17
Title: Iceberg
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 4477
Rating: NC-17

For the incomparable magicofisis, for the first of many bestmates_xmas fic exchanges.

What a wonderful idea – a fic exchange with no scary pairings – thank you kerryblaze and satindolls!!

You didn’t ask for anything set in stone, magicofisis, so I just let loose….

Thank you kerryblaze, for the beta.


Iceberg
By the time we watched the Giant Squid destroying the Hufflepuff Horcrux, we had been on our Quest for three years.

We looked at the spreading oil slick and hoped that Professor McGonagall would forgive us.

“Well,” Ron said, slinging his arm round my shoulders. “That’s that, then. You Know Who here we come.”

I snorted. “Let’s just look him up in the Floo Directory, shall we?”

“I’m pretty sure he’ll be ex-directory,” Hermione said, ducking under Ron’s other arm.

He ruffled my hair and kissed the top of her head.

“Now what?” he said.

“Now a hot bath,” Hermione said firmly, so we Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

Ron and I showered a lot quicker than Hermione bathed and he dressed and announced he was off to the Burrow.

I cried off.

“They’ll want to see you,” Ron said patiently.

“I’ll wait for Hermione,” I said.

He rolled his eyes and Disapparated.

He thought that I didn’t want to see Ginny, or, possibly, that I wanted to see Ginny.

Yes, things had been a bit awkward the last time we’d managed to get to the Burrow.

I do think that maybe Ginny should have told me beforehand, but the way that she and Hermione and Mrs Weasley had all screamed was pretty funny.

And I don’t know who was more mortified, Ron, on my behalf, at me having walked in on it, or Neville, at having been caught with his hands up Ginny’s skirt, cupping her arse as she straddled his lap and snogged him breathless.

Ron and Hermione thought I was jealous, thought I’d had my heart broken, and were extra solicitous for a while.

And maybe I sighed a bit theatrically and gazed into the fire; maybe I gratefully accepted their hugs.

Resting my cheek on Hermione’s hair and nodding as she murmured words of comfort.

Burying my face in Ron’s jumper and closing my eyes and breathing him in and wallowing in the concern in his voice, rumbling beneath my ear.

Yes.

Ron.

It seemed, after six months of fretting over the question ‘Ron or Ginny,' I was actually way ahead of myself.

Okay, I’d made the wrong choice.

But that just meant I had actual memories of running my fingers through red hair, of running my tongue over cinnamon freckles, when Hermione kissed me on the cheek and dragged Ron off to bed.

So, I wasn’t avoiding Ginny.

Being around Ron twenty-four hours a day was exhausting and I needed a little while to re-erect my barriers, to shield myself against him.

His casual touches, his puppy-like enthusiasm, his hair, his eyes, his smile.

Fuck.

Not helping.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes and practised my Occlumency exercises.

Yes, the irony was not lost on me; I needed to protect myself against Ron and Voldemort.

I must have dropped off, because the next thing I knew was a flowery scent and Hermione poking me in the chest.

“Hey,” I said, opening one eye.

“Where’s our boy?” she asked.

“Burrow,” I replied, swallowing mournfully at the description and ruining all my hard work by imagining he was mine in the same way he was hers.

“Ah,” she said. “You up to facing Ginny?”

“Sure,” I replied, forgetting she’d broken my heart.

Hermione blinked. “Oh. Good,” she said. “Good for you, Harry.”

And I felt dreadful: she was always so supportive and I wanted to steal her boyfriend.

Well, no I didn’t, not really. There’d be no point; what would I do with him?

I sighed heavily and dragged myself to my feet.

I’d have to go and watch Ron being made a fuss of; his mum stroking his hair and smothering him with kisses and waiting on him hand and foot.

Oh, okay.

Doing everything I wanted to do.

He and Hermione were very good about keeping anything physical away from me, and watching Mrs Weasley running her fingers through his hair was gonna kill me.

Through that beautiful hair that my hands itched to touch.

Bugger.

I’d been away from him for thirty whole minutes and my head was full of images of my fingers running through soft, red hair and I cursed and blessed my time with Ginny.

“You’ll be fine,” Hermione said bracingly, looking at my pale face.

I managed a small smile as I trailed after her into the fireplace.

Luckily, I had missed the kisses, and Ron’s hair was a fright, indicating there had been plenty of ruffling, but he was eating a huge slice of chocolate cake, smothered in chocolate butter cream icing.

And he was licking the icing off his fingers.

Hermione sat beside me and we both accepted hugs and cake from a flailing Mrs Weasley.

Ron sucked noisily at his fingers and Hermione tutted.

She didn’t deserve him; I’d offer to suck it off his fingers, if I was allowed.

I turned away from the erotic display opposite me and met Ginny’s eyes.

She raised an eyebrow at me and I tried to look innocent, but she nodded at the doorway to the lounge and I rose and followed her from the room.

“Since when?” she asked, as soon as I closed the door behind me.

“What?” I asked.

“You and Ron.”

I really hope that I have a better facing Death Eaters poker face, because I just babbled helplessly for a minute, until she took pity on me.

“Oh, I’m sure nothing’s happened,” she interrupted. “But, Harry, the way you were looking at him; I had to get you out of there, before even Ron noticed.”

My knees gave way and I slumped against the door.

“I… I didn’t expect the finger sucking,” I said lamely.

She shook her head.

“How do you usually cope?” she asked gently, coming and leaning beside me.

“Badly,” I admitted. “But they’re wrapped up in each other, and then there’s all the death and the cold and the rain and, well, they think you broke my heart.”

She flushed.

“Ah, well,” she muttered. “Glad to be of help.”

“And he’s not usually clean and… and sucking,” I pouted.

“Oh, Harry,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder. “You do make things hard for yourself.”

“It’s not me who makes things hard,” I tried to say suggestively, but it wasn’t enough to make her blush.

“He’d do it,” she said and I boggled at her.

“Do what?” I asked weakly.

“He adores you, Harry. You know he does.”

“Not like that,” I said firmly.

She shrugged. “He doesn’t realise it’s an option.”

“Not helping, Gin,” I protested. “He’s crazy about Hermione. I couldn’t be happier for them.”

“He didn’t smile at Hermione when she Flooed in,” Ginny said relentlessly. “He smiled at you. Maybe he should be told you’re an option.”

“Not. Helping.”

She shrugged and leant against me companionably.

“Well, you know you can talk to me, Harry,” she said. “Although not in too much erotic detail.”

I snorted.

When we returned to the kitchen, we found Fred and George had arrived and were industriously ruffling Ron’s hair and attempting to kiss him on each cheek.

We sat down and Ginny grinned conspiratorially at me and Fred raised an eyebrow at how chummy we were.

“I thought you two were off-again,” he said.

“We are,” Ginny said firmly. “Neville will be over later.”

George grunted.

“What’s wrong with Neville?” Ginny demanded. “Not that your opinions on my boyfriends are welcome.”

“He doesn’t play,” Fred shrugged.

“Play?” I echoed, all sorts of sexual images tumbling through my head.

“Quidditch,” George said. “I can’t imagine Ginny with a bloke who doesn’t play.”

“’t’s why we approved of you,” Fred added.

“So,” I said slowly. “I could attract a swarm of Death Eaters down on her, but that’s okay, because I’m a good Quidditch player?”

“Yup,” George confirmed.

Hermione sighed at their horrible logic.

“Then what was wrong with Dean?” she demanded. “They played well together, but you still gave her a hard time.”

“No,” George said firmly. “Stooging should never be allowed off the pitch, either.”

Ron and I choked and Ginny glared and Mrs Weasley smacked him on the back of the head.

“Stooging?” Hermione asked blankly.

“More than one Chaser entering the scoring area,” Fred said darkly.

Hermione blushed.

“’Swhy we dated Angie and Alicia,” George explained. “Stooging on the team is bad luck.”

“You dated them to bring the team luck?” Hermione spluttered. “Do they know this?”

“Surely them dating each other would have been far better?” Ron sniggered. “For the team.”

He met my eyes with a huge smile and I wondered what rules there were against Seekers entering the Keeper’s scoring area and I flushed and shook my head and looked away and Ginny nudged me and rolled her eyes.

How was I supposed to survive the rest of the day of Weasley innuendo?

“Well, seeing as you’re not on-again,” Fred said. “How about a quick game? You can both play Chaser and we’ll play Beater.”

“I bags Ginny,” George put in swiftly.

“Fine,” Fred said.

“What about another Keeper?” Hermione asked nervously.

“Don’t panic,” George laughed. “They can both try and score on Ron.”

Ginny patted me comfortingly on the shoulder as she stood, knowing the images that that would have put in my head.

I risked a glance at Ron and his ears were pink and he didn’t look at me.

“I’m not sure how much more Quidditch innuendo I can take,” I muttered to Ginny as we went out to the shed and selected brooms.

She grinned. “Well, think of it this way. You have reason to stare intently at Ron for a couple of hours.”

“Oh, Gin!” I complained.

“You can stare into his eyes, and you’re just trying to see if you can out think him and score.”

“Shut up”

“You can stare at his thighs, and you’re just trying to see which way he’s gonna go.”

“Shut up, Ginny.”

“Though, as I told you, for you he’d go both ways.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Ginevra!”

“You can watch his hands moving on his shaft… between his legs…”

I spluttered and blushed and George came up behind her and slung an arm round her shoulders.

“Excellent,” he said. “I don’t wanna know how you got him this flustered, but he’s obviously like putty in your hands.”

“If you mean all soft and squidgy,” Ginny giggled.

“Hey,” Fred said, slinging a matching arm around me. “My boy is as hard as a rock.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered. “Can we just play?”

But she was right, wasn’t she?

For a couple of hours I got to watch Ron get all hot and sweaty. He was a gorgeous sight on a broom, gripping it hard with his thighs, his slim hips dipping as I moved towards him and he changed direction to cut me off.

I loved the eye contact as I tried to score on him; the way his muscles shifted as he reached for the Quaffle.

And I loved it when I didn’t score; loved the triumphant smiles he flashed me when he caught my Quaffle; loved his hair and t-shirt darkening and clinging to his skin.

Even loved it when my shot hit him in the ribs and he lifted his shirt to examine the damage.

Hermione had Flooed back to Grimmauld Place by the time we finished playing, so we grabbed a cold drink and sweatily hugged Ginny and Mrs Weasley goodbye and followed her home.

Ron stripped off his wet shirt and I stifled a moan and he winced and decided he’d been hit by enough Quaffles to deserve a hot bath, so I showered swiftly and wandered down to the kitchen.

Hermione was nursing a cup of tea and reading the Evening Prophet.

I poured myself a cup and sat opposite her.

“Sorry we neglected you,” I said, aware that that should have been Ron’s line, but he’d gone straight to the bathroom.

“Oh, Harry, don’t be!” she smiled. “I think that was just what you needed, today.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “There’s nothing further from Dark Magic than a swarm of Weasleys on brooms.”

“Where’s our Weasley?” she asked.

“Bath,” I said. “Reckons he’s covered with bruises.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m sure you can heal them for him, later on,” I suggested, my heart aching.

“Um,” she said.

“What?”

“This is probably a good time, actually,” she said, a small frown between her brows.

“For what?” I asked.

“Well, we’ve done all we can, for the moment,” she said. “There’s nothing left to do but find Voldemort and that’s not a job for the three of us.”

“I guess not,” I said, watching her biting her lip and worrying about what was coming.

“So,” she said slowly. “This is a good time to... um… take stock of things.”

“Things?” I echoed.

“I think I’ll go and stay with my parents, for a few days,” she said. “It’s been far too long since I saw them.”

“Good idea.”

“And there’s… I should have… well, we… yes.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You should have?”

“Yes, I should have,” she said firmly. “I should have told you before now, but there hasn’t been a good time.”

“Told me what? What’s wrong, Hermione?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong,” she assured me. “It’s just that Ron and I… well, we should have told you… and my parents… and his, too, I suppose, although I’m not looking forward to that…”

I gulped. “You’re not…” I gestured vaguely at her midriff.

“No!” she gasped. “Harry!”

“Sorry,” I said swiftly. “But I can’t imagine what other news would freak the Weasleys out.”

She sighed heavily. “We’ve split up,” she said.

I blinked.

Three words I was having a huge problem processing.

They’d split up.

That meant they weren’t together.

“Harry?”

“Since when?” I managed.

“Oh. Well,” she winced. “About six weeks, actually, now.”

“What?” I shouted.

“We didn’t want to say anything while we were after the cup,” she explained. “You had enough on your plate, with that and Ginny and everything.”

“I’d have liked to know,” I insisted. “I’d have liked to… help.”

“We didn’t need helping, honestly,” she said. “We both knew it wasn’t working, and it was all utterly mutual and amicable. You know Ron isn’t a good enough actor to keep it from you if he’d been broken hearted. And we decided you needed to be over your break up, before we told you, or it’d upset you too much.”

“My break up,” I echoed.

“And you and Ginny seemed so friendly this afternoon,” she said happily. “So I think this is the right time to tell you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Ginny and I are good friends again.”

“And so are Ron and I,” she said. “So nothing need interfere with our plans.”

“No,” I said. “Yes. Good.”

“Please don’t be angry, Harry. That… we didn’t tell you.”

“No, of course not,” I assured her vaguely, my mind skittering over the image of Ron, upstairs, in the bath.

And available.

Right.

Like interfering with him wouldn’t interfere with our plans.

I sighed heavily.

“Harry?” she said. “You are upset, aren’t you?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” I babbled. “I should have noticed, really, shouldn’t I? I was around you twenty-four hours a day! It’s just unexpected. And you… you really don’t think it’ll make anything awkward?”

“Us not being a couple? Has anything felt awkward, for the last few weeks?” she asked gently.

I shrugged. “I’m oblivious, remember.”

“We are absolutely fine,” she said. “Couldn’t be better friends, to each other or to you.”

“Good,” I said heartily. “That’s good.”

I sighed again.

“Harry?” she said tentatively. “Tell me to mind my own business…”

I snorted.

“But I can think of a reason that this could have upset you.”

“How about that I care about my two favourite people?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “But I’ve always wondered… what if you care more for one of us than the other?”

“Um… what?” I said.

“Do you…?” she swallowed. “Do you have… feelings…?”

“No!”

“… for Ron?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” she echoed.

“’Course I have feelings,” I floundered. “I have feelings for Malfoy – feelings of loathing.”

She gave me a very pointed look.

“I think us breaking up makes it awkward for you because it makes Ron available.”

I babbled incoherently for the second time that day.

What was it with the women in my life and feelings and stuff all of a sudden?

“Harry?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I spluttered and she shook her head.

“I’d be fine about it,” she said gently.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said feebly.

“Well, it’s not how I thought things would end up, between us all, but Ron and I did try.”

I gaped at her.

“You do realise you’re a girl, don’t you, Hermione?” I asked finally.

“I realised it years before either of you did, yes,” she said wryly.

I waved that away. “Well, Ron realised it, and has enjoyed the…” I mimed vague breast-shapes with my hands “…benefits for a couple of years, now.”

“Well, those were the only benefits I had on offer,” she said calmly. “But trust me, Ron also enjoys…” she mimed wanking “…the benefits you have to offer.”

“No way,” I spluttered. “I’d know if Ron was… liked blokes.”

“How?” Hermione said. “He doesn’t realise you do. He wasn’t likely to tell you while you were with Ginny.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna tell him while he was with you.”

We looked at each other.

I shook myself, like a dog coming out of the water.

“No,” I said. “You’re wrong, and I’m not going to humiliate myself – and Ron.”

“I know for a fact that he’s bisexual,” she said calmly. “And that he adores you. You’ll just have to trust me that he fancies you, too.”

“Maybe,” I swallowed. “Maybe after the war or something.”

Hermione shrugged. “Well, you know how you feel. Maybe you can spend twenty-four hours a day with him, without saying anything. Maybe you can risk him finding someone else.”

“I can’t do it, Hermione. I just can’t. He means too much to me.”

She kissed me on the cheek and stood up. “Maybe Ron’ll make the first move,” she said. “It only took him three years with me.”

She left the kitchen and I sat there for a while longer, thinking about him.

No one knew him better than Hermione, and she thought he could want me, too.

No one knew him better than me, and I never thought he liked blokes.

Maybe I could go and talk to him; tell him I knew about him and Hermione breaking up, offer him a shoulder to… cry on.

Eventually, I dumped my cup in the sink and stomped up the stairs to get ready for bed.

Ron was still in the bath, but I really did need to clean my teeth and I needed to see him and I don’t know what the hell I thought I was doing, but I went into the bathroom.

Ron was lying in the bathtub, stretched out full length, eyes closed, body submerged in bubbles.

I cursed my weakness and allowed myself to look at him.

Darkened red hair curled against his neck, a sheen of sweat covered his face. His neck rose out of the water, but the rest of him was hidden by bubbles, except for his large feet, braced against the end of the bath.

And an inch of his cock.

His erect cock.

Peeping through the bubbles.

I licked my lips.

“Interested?” he asked, cracking an eye open.

“What?” I said nervously.

“In this,” he said calmly, a hand breaking the surface to grasp his cock.

“Um?” I said wittily.

“It’s like a thingy,” he said.

“What?” I asked, my eyes riveted as he stroked himself.

“Iceberg,” he said, grinning up at me.

“Iceberg?” I echoed.

“It floats low in the water,” he explained. “And ninety percent is below the surface.”

“It bloody well isn’t,” I laughed, breaking out of my daze and meeting his eyes. “Ten inches?”

“Don’t you want to find out?” Ron asked, smirking at me.

“No!” I gasped, backing away from the bath as he rose to his feet.

At which point I found I could not move. Because the water was streaming down his body, making detours round the muscles in his arms, his chest, his stomach; he was brushing the bubbles away from his cock and it bobbed in front of him as he stepped out of the bath and stalked towards me.

“Ron?” I squeaked.

“Harry,” he said, stopping inches away from me.

Eleven inches away, if his boasting was true, because the head of his cock was an inch from the growing bulge in my trousers.

“This isn’t funny,” I protested weakly.

“I’m not laughing,” he said.

“Well, what are you doing?” I said, looking up at him.

He shrugged. “Flirting with you,” he said. “Showing you.”

“Showing me what?” I asked, my eyes flickering down to his cock, and feeling mine straining towards it.

“What d’you think?” he snorted. “That I want you.”

“No you don’t,” I said firmly. “You like girls.”

“I liked Hermione,” he said patiently. “And now I like you. I’m… flexible.”

He waggled his eyebrows.

“No,” I said. “You…”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he interrupted. “Look,” he thrust his hips at me and his cock brushed against me, “this is for you; because of you.”

“Really?” I whispered.

“Why the fuck would I lie about something like this?” he demanded. “Oh, just stick a Probity Probe up my arse and you’ll see I’m telling the truth!”

I swallowed audibly.

“Or anything else you fancy,” he added.

“Ron, this isn’t funny,” I said, backing away from him, my hands in fists at my side, to stop myself grabbing him. “Why would you suddenly…”

“Because Hermione popped in for a word, on her way to bed,” he said, his hands closing on the edge of the counter on either side of my waist and trapping me against the sink. “And told me to pull my finger out.”

“She did what?” I squeaked.

“Yeah, we can tell her off for interfering, later,” he said, dripping on me. “For now, I think we should take advantage of the fact.”

My hands moved without any conscious thought, settling on his chest as I gazed up at him.

He leant down.

“’Course,” he murmured against my lips. “I told her I’d be more likely to push my finger in.”

“You didn’t,” I gasped, into his mouth.

And then I was speechless.

Because his lips were sliding against mine and his hands had settled on my arse and were holding me in place as he ground against me and he was still naked and still wet and I groaned loudly, my hands running up and into his hair.

“Clothes,” he whispered against my lips.” Getting’m wet.”

“Off,” I managed to mutter and Ron’s hands slipped to the zip of my jeans.

He pushed them down and I held onto him as I toed off my trainers and stepped out of them and my boxers.

I stood on tiptoe and tried to press my cock against his and he tutted and pushed me back against the counter.

“Up,” he said and I hopped up onto the cool marble surface, the rim of the sink pressing against my arse, Ron parting my legs and stepping between them.

“Fuckyesplease,” I moaned as he wrapped one hand round our cocks and thrust against me.

I buried the fingers of one hand in his hair and the other between his cheeks and gasped as he slid against me.

My old school shirt was damp from being pressed up against him and he bent to nuzzle at my chest.

I gasped and he tutted and reached behind me with his free hand, scrabbling to turn on the tap.

“Not wet enough,” he muttered, scooping up handfuls of water and splashing them on my shirt, the white cotton darkening and clinging to my body.

I clutched him to me as his mouth closed over my nipple and my legs wrapped round him and his cock ground against mine and water from the abandoned tap splashed up my arse and he squeezed hard as I came over his fingers.

I cried out his name and wrapped my arms around him and he buried his face in my neck and thrust against me, murmuring into my skin and sliding against my over sensitive cock.

He stilled in my arms and whispered “Harry,” and I felt his come against my belly and held him tight.

He reared back and blinked at me.

“Harry,” he whispered.

I touched his face, running my thumb across his lips.

“Wow,” I murmured.

“Oh, Harry,” he crowed, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“We…” I brushed his damp hair out of his face as he peeled away from me, wiping his fingers and my belly with the tails of my shirt as I struggled out of it. “We’re really doing this?”

“Oh, we really, really are,” he said, smiling broadly. “C’mon, Harry, bed.”

I jumped down and we ran for our room, tumbling through the doorway and onto his bed.

I looked down at his beautiful flushed face.

“We’re really gonna do this.”

“We’d better,” Ron said, pulling me down beside him. “D’you know how long I’ve wanted to?”

“You never said,” I murmured into his chest.

His shoulder shrugged under my cheek.

“Reckon feelings are a bit like an iceberg, too, right?” he said.

“Right,” I said, smiling as I snuggled closer.

The next thing I knew, I was awoken by a crack and a loud voice saying “Bloody, hell, Fred!”

“Shit,” Ron muttered thickly, his arms tightening around me.

“Well, well, well,” Fred said gleefully.

“Not. Now.” Ron snapped.

They disappeared with a double crack and I blinked up at Ron.

“I’m so sorry,” I said ridiculously. “The twins…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ron said. “We’re not gonna hide anything.”

My heart swelled as he kissed me on the temple and we rose and found some clothes and stumbled down to the kitchen.

Fred and George were sitting on either side of Hermione, smirking into their coffee cups.

“Well, well, well,” George said.

“Not gonna get to me,” Ron said cheerfully, stealing some of Hermione’s toast.

“Do we have a policy on Flacking, Fred?” George asked.

“Can’t say that we do,” George replied.

Hermione looked from side to side, a frown on her face

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Ron said firmly.

“Flacking,” Fred said brightly. “It’s a Keeping foul. The Keeper is supposed to defend the hoops from the front at all times.”

“Absolutely,” George agreed. “He isn’t supposed to stick any portion of his anatomy through the ring from the rear!”