The Other Woman - H/R - NC-17
Title: The Other Woman
Author: ursulaurquhart
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Words: 4900

Written for the very exciting reversathon, for the sexy and mysterious #43, who requested Harry/Ron with lots of Hermione--either involved with them romantically or not; Hermione as the go-between during an argument. Exasperated Hermione, stubborn boys--especially in a silly way—and make-up sex. kinky sex always welcome!

I'm not sure how much of this I have managed to include, because the sex scene came at a poignant, rather than kinky, moment, and I doubt Harry had a courgette to hand, anyway…..

Betaed, terribly kindly, by the wondrousbelovedranger.


The Other Woman
****
Hermione blames me, as usual.

As if her whole putting Harry first thing wasn't enough to split us up in the first place.

OK.

That's not fair.

We both put Harry first on our Quest.

And it was my fault that I was jealous of her putting him first; and that I was upset that she wasn't jealous that I put him first; and that I was angry that she was angry that I was jealous and upset.

She thinks it was enough to split us up that I fell in love with Harry.

But most of that was after our break up.

Honest.

Almost completely.

I felt like such an idiot.

I'd been with Harry practically twenty-four hours a day for six years, without anything like that happening.

And, yes, I loved him.

Like a brother.

I knew all about brothers.

And Harry was a better brother than any of my actual freckled ones.

We'd been Questing for about six months. We were asleep in a cave, curled up together for warmth, because we hadn't dared build too large a fire.

I had fallen asleep with Hermione in my arms, but when I woke up she was curled against my back and I was facing Harry.

His face was relaxed for the first time in months, and I inexplicably found myself about to reach out and stroke his unlined cheek when he moved closer and sighed against my neck and I gasped and breathed in a face full of his hair and was instantly hard.

And baffled.

It was Harry.

I'd had more physical contact with Harry over the years than with anyone else.

Without being inappropriately aroused.

But he snuggled against me and I absently stroked his hair and I wanted him.

I stared up at the rocky ceiling, trying to distract myself by remembering if it was stalactites or stalagmites that hung from a cave's roof.

But I could barely remember my own name as Harry's hip pressed against my cock, and it was all I could do not to rub against him.

I managed to extricate myself from his arms and wriggled over to embrace Hermione.

There.

Much better.

I released a tense breath and pulled her closer.

She nuzzled against my neck, and I rubbed my cheek on her hair and relaxed as my erection subsided.

Refusing to think about why my cock wasn't particularly impressed by being that close to Hermione, I sighed and closed my eyes.

Harry shook us awake at dawn, and I kissed Hermione on the cheek and briskly stirred the embers of our fire to make breakfast.

Harry squatted opposite me and smiled, and my stomach flipped.

What the fuck was going on?

****

So, maybe I did have feelings for Harry before Hermione and I broke up, but I didn't do anything about it.

Except act like a jealous idiot, when she put her arms round him at the end of a crap day.

Harry gave me puzzled looks, obviously wondering how I could be jealous of him, when Hermione slept in my arms.

Hermione gave me penetrating looks, obviously wondering how I could be jealous of her.

I tried so hard not to bugger everything up; tried not to upset a Hermione who even I could tell was pulling away from me.

I tried hard to focus on what was most important.

Helping Harry.

Even while my brain supplied all sorts of suggestions for how I could help Harry.

Images of his cock slipping through my fingers; of his body arching beneath me; of him on all fours, shivering as my breath ghosted over his arse; of him throwing back his head and crying out as I entered him.

It was so hard to act normally around him; not to jump out of my skin when he touched me.

I thought I was doing so well; couldn't remember the last time I had been flustered and pitiful; thought I was being subtle about me and Hermione sleeping apart from him, so he didn't snuggle up to me in the night.

But then I realised that he was avoiding me.

Realised that he didn't look at me as we set up camp; that he shrank away from me like a beaten dog.

That he trailed round after Hermione, desperate for her attention.

And I felt like shit.

We were both there to support him; we'd spent ages discussing how we wouldn't let our relationship get in the way.

And now?

Our relationship had slipped away, and I had become so fixated on not letting Harry find out how I felt about him, that I had left the whole support thing to Hermione.

And, of course, being Hermione, she noticed that something was wrong, and she couldn't leave it alone.

She took her opportunity one spring day, when Harry was away, meeting Remus.

I was stacking firewood when I became aware of her eyes following me.

Putting it off as long as I could, I tidied and straightened and faffed about our camp until she cracked.

"Ron," she snapped.

I sighed and crossed to sit beside her. Well. Here we go. She was going to say, "We need to talk."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she shouted.

I blinked. "Me?" I muttered.

"Remind me why we're here," she said.

"Here in the clearing or here at this point in our relationship?" I asked her, stalling for time.

"Relationship?" she hissed. "Look me in the eye and tell me we still have a relationship."

I sighed and shrugged and shook my head and she made a desperate noise in the back of her throat and leapt to her feet, striding round the camp.

"I thought you'd grown up," she said. "I thought you'd put this ridiculous cowardice behind you with the whole Lavender thing."

"Um," I said.

"Why are you completely incapable of breaking up with someone?" she asked.

I thought about it. "I haven't really thought about it," I muttered.

"Do you want to be with me?" she asked, carefully, as if she was speaking to a small child.

I thought about Harry. "It's not that, so much," I said, pitifully.

"Do you want to split up?" she said.

"It's not that, so much, either."

She growled. "Ron, what doyou want?"

I thought about Harry lying under me, his hair wild, sweat dripping down his neck as he gazed up at me, biting his lip as I moved inside him.

"Ron," she prompted.

"Nothing I can have," I snapped.

She closed her eyes, and I could feel her counting to ten.

She came to sit back down and took a deep breath, letting it out between her teeth.

"So," she said. "Shall we consider ourselves split up?"

I nodded, glumly.

"Shall we consider ourselves friends?"

"Of course," I said quickly. "I know I've buggered everything up. Again. But that is too important. You know you mean the world to me."

She raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"And what about Harry?" she asked.

My brain supplied an image of Harry, writhing under me and reaching for his cock as I surged into him.

"What?" I said, panicking.

"There is nothing more important than the two of us being here for Harry," she said. "And you are breaking his heart."

"What?" I gasped.

"You know how much he needs you," she said desperately, "and I don't understand how you not wanting me anymore has made you pull away from him, too. But you have been awful to him. You don't want me, but you act all jealous of the time I spend looking after Harry…" she trailed off, her lips working soundlessly as her eyes searched my face.

"Nothing you can have," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'll try to behave better; I'll…"

"Harry," she interrupted me.

"I'll help you more with Harry," I said.

"No," she said.

"No?" I echoed.

"You're not jealous of Harry, are you?" she said, the cogs in her brain visibly clicking and bringing her closer to the questions I didn't want to have to answer.

"Course not," I scoffed.

"You're jealous of me," she said. "You're jealous when I hold Harry, when I comfort Harry. You've pushed him away because you want to be the one who holds him."

I shook my head, desperately.

"You're in love with him," she breathed.

"No," I said.

"Ron?"

"I can't be," I whispered.

She shook her head. "I believe the traditional answer is 'I'm not', not 'I can't be'," she said gently.

"I can't be," I said.

She held out her arms, and I fell into them.

"When you fuck things up, you really go all the way, don't you?" she asked, stroking my hair.

"I tried not to," I muttered. "But he's always there and he's Harry and he's so beautiful."

I sat back and looked sheepishly at her.

She wrinkled her nose. "Beautiful?" she asked.

"Yes," I said firmly. "And the way he looks at me. I mean, I know he doesn't want me like that, but the way he focuses on me, and he needs me and we're so close, and I have to be there for him."

"What are you going to…"

"And there's you," I overrode her. "I've treated you so badly. Again. and I promised, after the Lavender thing."

"This is different," she said sadly.

"'Snot," I muttered.

"It is. With… her… you were taking advantage of someone who cared about you, and ignoring someone else who cared about you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I asked.

She laughed bitterly. "With Harry," she said, ignoring me. "Well, he's always been the most important person in your life, hasn't he?"

"But not like this," I said, gesturing vaguely at my groin and she snorted.

"What are you going to tell him?" she asked.

"Nothing," I gasped. "Are you crazy?"

"You have to tell him, Ron. He thinks he's done something to upset you. He thinks you're angry that he's put you in danger, or put me in danger, or put Ginny in danger."

"Hermione, blokes don't tell other blokes that they fancy them," I said firmly. "I'll just hide it better. I'll tell him I was in a bad mood about you."

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Please, Hermione," I moaned. "I'll say it was because we were breaking up, but we'd talked about it, and we were better as friends, and we are still there for him."

She frowned at me. "He'll be uncomfortable around us," she complained.

"Believe me," I snorted. "He'd be more uncomfortable if he knew what I wanted to do to his arse."

"Ron!" she gasped.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"You really want to…" she gestured, wide-eyed.

"You have no idea," I said, staring into the distance as my brain supplied an image of Harry's arse under my hands, my thumbs holding his cheeks apart as I pressed into him.

"Ron!" she snapped.

"What?" I said, blinking back into focus.

"I think he'd want to know; he loves you."

"And he's in love with my sister," I sighed.

"That was nearly a year ago," she pointed out. "And he loved you first."

"Please don't, Hermione," I begged. "I promise I'll be good, if you promise to let me handle it."

She nodded as my brain supplied an image of me kneeling between Harry's parted thighs and handling his cock.

****

I could tell she didn’t agree, but she made herself scarce when Harry returned, and I went back to my camp tidying. Watching him out of the corner of my eye, I could see how dejected he looked and I finally went over to where he was sitting and squatted down.

He flinched.

And I wanted to take him in my arms and promise never to hurt him again.

“Where’s Hermione?” he asked, not looking at me.

“She’s… um… I wanted to talk to you.”

His eyes flickered up and met mine for a second, before he looked away.

I sighed.

In books they can always read seventeen different emotions in a glance, but that’s a load of crap.

But even I could tell he didn’t want this conversation.

“Um,” I said, sitting beside him. “I think we need to make a pact.”

He looked up, all confused and gorgeous and I ached to know I mustn’t touch him.

“If I’m being an arse, you have to tell me,” I said. “I get caught up in my own crap and don’t realise I’m upsetting you.”

Harry snorted. “You don’t upset me, Ron,” he said. “It’s my crap that has brought us here; I reckon I’m the arse.”

I must have glazed over for a moment, but I was busy imagining Harry’s arse, and how tight he’d be if I fucked him. Well, he was right, in a way. It was his arse that had created our problems, that had come between us.

I moaned as I imagined coming between his….

“Ron?” he prompted. “What’s wrong? What have I done?”

Nothing.

It wasn’t his fault that his wrist bones made me ache, his lips made me hard, his arse…

“Nothing,” I said. “Honestly, Harry, it’s entirely my fault. Look, Hermione and I have broken up; it was weirdness with her spilling over, I shouldn’t have let it.”

“No,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes, we have, but it’s OK.”

“I don’t mean ‘no, you haven’t’,” Harry said. “I mean ‘no, that’s not it’.”

I shrugged.

“You have been clinging to Hermione and avoiding me,” he said. “It’d have been the other way round if you had problems with Hermione.”

I wished he didn’t know me so well, and I wondered what he’d say if he knew all about me.

I sighed and closed my eyes.

He put his hand on my arm. “Please, Ron, tell me.”

I looked up at his concerned face, and my heart ached. Maybe not knowing what was wrong was worse than finding out how I felt about him.

Surely it was always nice to know that someone loves you.

Well, not if it was Malfoy, or something.

I took a deep breath. “I guess it’s the why me and Hermione broke up,” I conceded.

He sat and looked supportive until I carried on talking.

“I mean, she didn’t know why I was being such an arse, either, not until today. But I did, well, of course I did, it was my fault. Well, no, I guess it’s not obviously an of course, ‘cos I don’t have the best record on admitting my feelings.”

“Ron, you’re babbling,” he interrupted.

I ran my hands roughly through my hair and breathed deeply. “I realised I had feelings for someone else,” I said. “And I guess I clung to Hermione to over compensate. But she guessed.”

“Someone else?” he hissed. “After all the crap you put her through before you got together? I looked after her for months, Ron. She was heartbroken.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s why I couldn’t admit I’d failed her again. But she’s OK with it, honestly, Harry.”

“How can she be?” he demanded. “We both saw how jealous she can be. And when did you even find someone to fall for, anyway?” He frowned and I sighed deeply.

“I didn’t have to look very far,” I said glumly.

“When did we last see anyone else?” he asked.

I looked him in the face and shrugged. “It’s you, Harry,” I said heavily.

He blinked.

“What’s me?” he said.

“The Other Woman,” I muttered.

He shook his head. “But I’m…”

“A bloke, I know that.”

“But… why?” he asked.

I snorted. “I didn’t mean to,” I protested. “I’ve never fancied a bloke before – not even… Oliver. Not even Dean when he strides round the dorm naked. But one night I woke up and watched you sleep. And loved you.”

“Loved?” he whispered. “You said ‘feelings’, you said ‘fancied’.”

“Well. Feelings of love.”

“Are you sure?” He looked amazed.

“Yes,” I said. “I know the difference! I fancied Lavender; I loved Hermione. I know which one this is. I wouldn’t tell you this if it was just I was sex starved and you made me hard a couple of times.”

His eyes opened as wide as Galleons. “What?” he gasped.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “I wasn’t gonna mention stuff like that.”

“You… you want me?” he asked.

I huffed. “Of course I want you,” I said indignantly. “Otherwise the love thing would just be as a brother, and I’ve always loved you as a brother. It’s the constant erections and the not being able to get your arse out of my head that are the wanting bit and I wasn’t gonna say that, either. Bugger.”

“Oh,” he said. “Um… I…”

I waved both hands to hush him. “You don’t have to say anything,” I interrupted. “You just deserved to know why I’m going crazy. And. Well, it’s always nice to know someone loves you, right?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly.

“Well, maybe not,” I sighed. “Not if…”

“I mean, no one has ever loved me. Before.”

I looked at him in amazement. “No one?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Who would?” he said simply.

All images of my hands on his arse fled, and I just wanted to hug him. “Fuck, Harry,” I said. “If I’d known, I’d have told you years ago.”

He smiled at me. That wonderful, conspiratorial, best mate smile I hadn’t seen in months.

“Thanks,” he said and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Look,” I said. “Are things gonna be weird between us?”

He studied my face. “Depends what you mean by weird,” he said.

I shrugged, helplessly.

“Because,” he went on, in a conversational tone of voice. “I’ve seen you naked plenty of times, and I wouldn’t call your cock all that weird. But I suppose it would feel a bit weird. Between us.”

“Very funny,” I complained. “Let’s all make fun of my cock, shall we?”

“But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asked, biting his lip and looking down at my lap.

“Of course it’s what I want,” I grumbled, adjusting my jeans as my traitorous cock hardened under his gaze. “But I’m not going to force myself on you, or something, Harry. I wasn’t even gonna tell you.”

“I’ll do it,” he said.

“Do what,” I asked.

He flushed. “Whatever you want.”

“No, you bloody well won’t,” I shouted. “Are you insane? You don’t even know what I want.”

“Tell me,” he said.

“I want us to be friends,” I said severely. “And I want you to stop offering yourself to people just ‘cos they say they love you.”

“Not people,” he said. “Just you.”

“Stop it,” I said. “I’m not special.”

“You are to me,” he said. “Thing I’d miss most, right?”

I snorted.

“Look, I didn’t run screaming into the night,” he said.

“It’s mid-afternoon,” I muttered.

He ignored me. “And I think I would have with any other bloke.”

I looked at his enthusiastic face.

“We could try,” he said.

“Try what?”

He shrugged. “Dating?” he suggested.

“Yeah, right.” I looked round the camp. “Wanna come out with me and attack some Death Eaters?”

He smiled.

“No,” I said, leaning forward and kissing him on the forehead. “You are my best mate, and I won’t risk that. All I want is for us to go back how we were."

“That is not all you want,” he scoffed.

“Harry, please,” I begged. “I am not gonna ruin this. Us. We’re friends.”

****

So.

I was really proud of myself.

I’d managed to split up with Hermione, but stay friends.

I’d managed to tell Harry how I felt about him, but stay friends.

How grown up was that?

So what if I made sure Hermione slept in the middle when we made camp.

“Thanks, Ron,” she said. “Let’s point out that no one fancies me.”

And so what if I had to leave the room and think of Filch in a tutu when I saw Harry changing?

We were friends, and that is what I wanted from him.

And maybe that is how things would have stayed, if I didn't have such stubborn friends.

I never told Hermione what I'd actually said to Harry, but he must have.

She's always been mental, my Hermione, but how many women are thrilled that their ex-boyfriend has told another bloke that they're in love with them?

Apparently, she decided that Harry and I would be good together, and, whenever we had a quiet spell, she went back and forth, between us.

Not nagging; reminding.

Reminding me that taking care of Harry was my top priority.

"Hermione, as if I could forget that," I complained. "Even apart from the completely inappropriate images in my head."

"Do you know how important physical affection is to humans?" she asked, ignoring me.

"What?" I said.

"People actually get ill if starved of physical affection – and just think of Harry at the Dursleys."

"OK," I said, my heart breaking once more at the thought of Harry's childhood. "I get that. But he wants affection from Ginny."

"Ginny's not here," she pointed out.

"I'm not a substitute for my sister," I said.

"Ron, you are more important to him than anyone in the world."

"Which is why I can't bugger things up by making a pass at him," I whined.

"But you don't have to make a pass at him," she said brightly. "Because he knows how you feel."

Oh, if only he did; I'd love him to feel me; if only he'd pin me to the bed with his body, his hands running down mine, closing round my cock.

"And he doesn't feel the same way, Hermione, so drop it."

But she didn't.

I don't know what she said to Harry, but to me she kept up a steady drip-drip-drip of 'he needs you', 'you love him'.

You'd think we had nothing better to do than snog.

But we had evil to hunt and destroy, and things came to a head the day we dealt with Hufflepuff's Cup.

****

Of course, I was the only one injured when the bloody thing exploded.

I came round to find myself lying with my head in Harry’s lap as Hermione healed my wounds.

Best injuries I ever sustained.

My ears were ringing and there was blood on Hermione's hands as she closed a cut on my cheek. Her face was white as a ghost, and I think I must have given her a bit of a scare.

Judging by the way Harry's fingers dug into my shoulder as his other hand smoothed my hair out of my face, I think he'd had a fright, too.

Finally, she decided I'd live and Tergeoed the rest of the blood away.

I tried to sit up and felt dizzy, and Harry moved to support me in his arms.

Hermione gave me a very pointed look, picked up the cracked cup and spoke to Harry. "Don't let him Apparate," she said, and disappeared.

Part of me wanted to lie in Harry's lap all day, but my pride stirred long enough for me to struggle upright and claim I could manage.

"Don't," Harry said and I blanched at the look on his face. He held me tight and side-along Apparated me to my room at Grimmauld Place.

He helped me up and sat me on the edge of my bed, before collapsing at my feet.

"Harry?" I said.

He shook his head and bent to remove my shoes and socks.

"Harry?" I repeated, putting a hand on his hair.

He looked up at me and there were tears in his eyes.

"Hey," I said. "What's wrong?"

He snorted and sniffed and dashed the tears away. "I thought you were dead," he said. "There was blood everywhere and you were so still and I thought you were dead and I thought I'd killed you."

"Oh, Harry," I said. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

He glared at me. "Do not joke about it," he snapped.

"I'm fine."

"But you weren't," he said.

I shrugged. "That's what magic is for, Harry," I said gently.

"Not you," he said, collapsing forward and burying his face in my lap.

"Harry?" I quavered, trying hard to ignore that famous scar, as it was pressed against my cock.

"I'm not gonna lose you," he told my thighs.

His voice rumbled against me and he sighed and my cock stirred.

"Harry," I said. "Get up, please."

"No," he muttered.

"Harry, please. I'm gonna humiliate myself, here. There isn't enough blood left in my body to power an erection."

He looked up, a half-smile on his face. "Stop boasting, Ron," he said, his eyes falling to the bulge in my trousers that was right in front of his face.

I squirmed as his hot breath touched me and his eyes lit up.

At least he wasn't close to tears anymore, but he was far too close to my cock.

And then he leant forwards and rubbed his face against it, like an affectionate cat, and the last drop of blood in my head must have headed south.

Because, if I'd been in my right mind, I would never have grabbed his head and thrust up against his cheek.

Would never have tangled my hands in his hair as his hands came up and clumsily unzipped my trousers, reaching into my boxers to free my cock.

Would have remembered that he was straight, and that getting involved with him would be a mistake.

Would have stopped him from wrapping a hand round the base of my cock and taking me in his mouth.

Would have missed the feeling of having him suck my soul out through my cock while I stroked his hair and babbled incoherently.

But would probably have been alert enough to notice the door opening before Hermione screamed.

And Harry bit me.

"Harry James Potter," she shrieked. "What do you think you are doing?"

I covered my poor cock with both hands as Harry turned to face her, blushing furiously. "Hermione… go away," he hissed.

"I was worried about Ron," she said, ignoring him. "I have brewed a Blood Replenishing Potion for him. You are supposed to be taking care of him."

I sniggered and she glared at me.

Harry got to his feet and strode across the room, and I couldn't help noticing that he adjusted his jeans as he walked. He snatched the potion from her hand. "Thank you," he said. "I will make sure he gets it."

Hermione snorted. "I could see that for myself," she snapped.

Harry made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, shoved Hermione out of the door and slammed it closed, before turning and leaning against it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"What?" I choked.

"I… you…" he gestured at the tip of my cock, still visible peeping out of my boxers.

"Are you sorry 'cos I'm injured or 'cos you don't… you know," I gestured at it, too.

It got a bit self-conscious and retreated inside my pants.

"'Cos you're injured," he said swiftly.

"Really?" I breathed.

"Absolutely," he said, nodding enthusiastically.

"Well," I said, smiling so broadly I thought my face would crack. "If you do… you know… well… be my guest."

Harry laughed. "Are you sure you're up to it?" he asked.

"Well, I was up a minute ago," I said. "And I'm sure you can do something about it."

Harry crossed the room and knelt before me. "Drink this, first," he said, pressing Hermione's potion into my hand.

I swallowed it swiftly and reached for him.

He pressed a soft kiss on my lips while he palmed my cock and stroked it.

It soon reawakened and I not-so-subtly put my hand on the top of his head and pushed him lap wards.

He laughed and took me in his mouth and it was wet heaven and I leant back on my elbows, watching him sucking, and he looked up at me, his beautiful eyes locking with mine as his cheeks hollowed and my cock throbbed and filled his mouth.

He sucked and licked me as I shook with aftershocks and then let go with a soft and wet sound, my cock falling heavily against my boxers as he crawled up my body, his eyes never leaving mine until he pushed me down and kissed me.

"I told you I'd do it," he whispered against my lips.

"Do what?" I asked, my eyelids heavy, more from my climax than my healing injuries.

"Anything," he smiled, and then laughed affectionately. "But I think that can wake until you wake up."

He stretched out on the bed and hauled me up next to him, ridding us both of our trousers and making himself comfortable.

I snuggled against his body for the first time in months – and for the first time without guilty feelings.

"We really gonna do this?" I yawned, burrowing my face into his neck.

"Absolutely," he said, dropping kisses into my hair. "Anything your perverted mind can come up with."

I sniggered. "You don't know what you're saying, Harry," I said, my eyes closing.

"Yes, I do," he said, holding me tight as I drifted off. "Hermione got me a book."