We’re still alive - H/R - NC-17
Title: We’re still alive
Author: shocfix
Summary: After the Final Battle, Harry and Ron have their injuries treated… Yeah, OK, look at the rating.
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 2400
Rating: NC-17

Happy Birthday for the 14th, ella_bane - I didn’t want to be swamped by Valentine’s Day, and I’ve stayed up so late finishing it, I may as well post the blasted thing.

It’s, um, silly. And unbetaed.


We’re still alive
****
Harry should have known that defeating Voldemort would be embarrassing.

He had been frantic from the moment Ron was taken; it had been all Hermione could do to get him to go to Remus for help in the search.

Three weeks.

They’d been looking for him for three weeks and Harry had barely slept.

The Order were out looking for him.

The Aurors had found nothing.

Even Mrs Weasley had started to accept she wouldn’t see him again.

But Harry and Hermione went out three or four times a day, accompanied by anyone they could collar.

Harry had just returned to Grimmauld Place from a slate quarry in Snowdonia and he was wet and cold and miserable.

As he slumped down at the kitchen table and poured a coffee from the charmed pot, Hermione burst into the room.

“Harry!” she gasped. “They’ve found…”

“Ron?” he interrupted, leaping to his feet and knocking his chair over.

“No,” she said gently. “I’m sorry, Harry. They’ve found out where Voldemort is; he’s been seen at Malfoy Manor.”

Harry went cold. “No,” he said. “Not yet.”

“Harry, we have to.”

“Not without Ron; not without even knowing where he is. I can’t die not knowing.”

“Harry, you are not going to die,” she said, coming over to wrap her arms around him. “We have to end this; we have to go after him. Remus is getting the Order ready to…”

“No,” Harry interrupted again. “Not the whole Order. What if they have Ron there? I’ll go alone…” he saw the look on her face and quailed.

So, he promised to wait for back up and she left him to prepare for what he’d face, but Hermione should have known him better, as he was nowhere to be found when she returned to the kitchen.

“He wouldn’t have gone in alone, would he>” Remus asked her.

“He promised he wouldn’t,” she wailed, wringing her hands.

They had contacted the right people as quickly as they could, but it had been several hours before the Order and Aurors were in place to attack Malfoy Manor.

When they reached the ballroom, they found the exploded remains of a giant snake and a Dark Lord.

And Harry kneeling on the floor, rocking an unconscious Ron Weasley in his arms.

Hermione flung herself at them.

“They tortured him, Hermione,” Harry whispered. “Cruciatus, over and over, in front of me.”

“He’ll be OK, Harry,” Hermione said gently, but he held on tightly as someone tried to take Ron away, only abruptly relaxing when he recognised Bill.

“We’ll get him to St Mungo’s,” Bill said, scooping his little brother up and Disapparating.

Harry nodded and tried to stand, and Hermione screamed as he collapsed again.

“Harry! You’re wounded.”

He looked down at himself. There was blood everywhere. “Draco. He cut me,” he muttered. “Sectumsempra. I suppose I deserved it.”

And he passed out.

When he woke up, he was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts and Hermione was asleep at his bedside. She stirred as he tried to sit up.

“Hermione?” he croaked.

“Oh, Harry!”

“Where’s Ron?” he interrupted.

“He’s at St Mungo’s,” she said. “But Remus thought you’d be better here – away from the press.”

“How is he?”

“Still out of it,” she said. “Mr Weasley was just here to check on you. He said Ron should be fine, if he wakes up soon.”

“I should be there,” Harry said, swinging his legs out of bed and swaying dizzily.

“Stop it, Harry,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders to steady him. “You’ve lost too much blood; the potions haven’t replaced it yet.”

He grunted.

“And, oh, Harry, Madam Pomfrey was really concerned about something else, when she examined you; she told Mr and Mrs Weasley, but she wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong. I’ll go and get her.”

She pushed Harry back against his pillows and went to chase up the nurse.

Harry was waiting impatiently when they returned, accompanied by Professor McGonagall. “When can I leave?” he demanded.

“When you’re strong enough,” Madam Pomfrey said bluntly. “Now, listen, Potter. I need to talk to you about something my Diagnostic Charms showed up. If you could wait outside, Miss Granger?”

“No, Hermione, you stay,” Harry said, catching her hand as she turned away. “I don’t have any secrets from Hermione,” he told them.

“Hmmmm,” Madam Pomfrey harrumphed. “Well. I ran a full diagnostic scan on you, Potter, looking for any injuries apart from the obvious wounds.”

“And?”

“And it found… you showed signs of recent… did You Know Who…”

“What?” Harry overrode her.

“There was evidence of… anal penetration,” she finished delicately.

Hermione gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth. “Oh, Harry, he didn’t…”

Harry flushed. “No!” he said. “No, he didn’t.”

“Then how…”

“He didn’t!”

“What did happen, Potter?” professor McGonagall asked gently.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t have gone alone, you were right, Hermione,” he sighed again. “I blundered straight through the wards at Malfoy Manor and Snape caught me and threw me in a cell. It was ages before Voldemort was ready to torture me himself, and he let Draco have the first go. But Draco used Sectumsempra and that made Voldemort angry – he’d meant just a bit of Cruciatus, so he could finish me off, not major blood loss.

“So, he… he killed Draco,” Hermione gasped, “and then he did use Cruciatus. But on Ron, over and over. I was held back by Death Eaters, I was bleeding; I couldn’t get to him. And then…”

“Yes?” Professor McGonagall prompted.

“…then he had Snape close my wounds; wanted to kill me himself. And Snape. He gave me Ron’s wand. He gave me Ron’s wand and he killed the snake and Voldemort killed him and I killed Voldemort. There. That’s what happened.”

“That’s all?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“But what about the abuse?” Madam Pomfrey asked. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Potter. They hurt you, tortured you.”

“They didn’t hurt me.”

“There’s no actual physical damage, Potter, but you’ll need to talk about it.”

“You really should, Harry,” Hermione chimed in. “Victims need to talk about what happed to them, or…”

“They didn’t… no one hurt me…”

“I don’t understand,” Hermione said, frowning.

“It was before. In my cell. Before they took me to face Voldemort.”

“Then, who…” Madam Pomfrey trailed off, looking confused.

“In my cell. Our cell. Ron,” Harry blushed.

“Ron?” Hermione gasped, wide-eyed.

“We thought we were gonna die,” Harry muttered. “I’d thought I’d never see him again, and there he was. I’d found him, only to get us both killed. And he… we…”

“You had sex?” Hermione asked faintly.

“Yeah.”

“But he’d been held for weeks. He’d been hurt; Mr Weasley said so. He was covered in bruises and cuts, it wasn’t just the Cruciatus.”

“I didn’t just ravish him, Hermione! Snape threw me in the cell and Ron was there and he was furious I’d come after him and…”

“And?”

Harry landed on hands and knees in the middle of the cell and the door slammed closed and glowed briefly as it was Impeturbed.

The only light straggled through the barred grille high in the door and Harry felt, rather than heard or saw, something moving in the shadows.

“Who’s there?” he called nervously.

“Harry?” a voice croaked.

The hair stood up on the back of his neck.

Oh, God. “Ron?” he whispered.

“Or a Polyjuiced death eater,” Ron’s voice chuckled. “When did you have your first kiss?”

“Christmas, fifth year,” Harry snorted. “What did you get from your girlfriend, Christmas sixth year?”

“A fucking My Sweetheart necklace, you bastard.”

And Ron was there; arms wrapped around him, embracing him fiercely.

Harry clung to him, murmuring his name, over and over.

Ron finally drew back and Harry tried to see his face in the darkness. He was cut and bruised and he wined as Harry ran his hands down his arms and across his body.

“They hurt you,” Harry said.

Ron nodded.

“Ron.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Ron said suddenly.

“What? Neither should you.”

“You came for me.”

“Of course I did…”

“You shouldn’t have, Harry, I’m not worth that.”

“Shut up,” Harry interrupted. “We’ve looked everywhere; thought of nothing else. But Voldemort is here…”

“I know,” Ron said grimly.

“…and the Order was getting ready to move in and I couldn’t let them do that, in case you were here, so I thought I’d have a look, myself.”

“And?”

“And Snape caught me as I broke the wards. I am an idiot; a liability.”

Ron chuckled. “Some Chosen One, huh?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“Ron…”

“You should have waited for the Order and done it properly and finished him; finished this.”

“And put you in more danger? I couldn’t.”

“Because we’re doing really well, now,” Ron pointed out.

Harry sighed. They were sitting so close together that his breath stirred Ron’s hair.

Ron’s fingers came up to touch Harry’s lips. “I thought I’d never see you again, never touch you again,” he said. “This is worth it. And I’ll be there when you kill him.”

“Ron…”

“Oh, Harry,” he grabbed hold of Harry again, shook him and buried his face against his neck.

Harry rested his cheek on Ron’s hair. “Your beard scratches,” he complained.

Ron sniggered and deliberately rubbed his stubbly cheek against Harry’s.

Harry laughed and tried to pull away, but Ron held him tight and nuzzled him again.

Harry squirmed and turned his face in the dark and his lips brushed across Ron’s.

Ron moaned.

“Sorry,” Harry whispered.

Ron froze.

“Not here,” Harry breathed against his lips.

Ron closed the distance between them and pressed his lips clumsily to Harry’s, the darkness hiding his target and his blushes.

“But you’re hurt,” Harry whispered.

“I don’t care,” Ron said, his hands coming up to cup Harry’s face and hold it still.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Harry said, between kisses.

“You couldn’t,” Ron murmured.

Harry gave in.

He tangled his hands in Ron’s hair and kissed him back with all the stored up tension of the past three weeks.

Ron tasted dirty and sweaty and sour, but he was Ron and Harry opened his mouth and let Ron push him back onto the mattress in the corner of the room.

Ron’s mouth was desperate and his hands were everywhere and Harry suddenly found himself naked from the waist down, with Ron jerking him off.

“You’re mad,” he said in disbelief. “We’ll get caught.”

“Don’t care,” Ron muttered, sucking on Harry’s neck. “We’re still alive.”

Harry couldn’t argue with that, so he let himself be swept away by Ron’s anything but tender ministrations.

He was still gasping for breath, after what he hoped was the best orgasm anyone had ever had in a Death Eater’s dungeon, when Ron scooped the come off his belly.

He blinked uselessly up at Ron in the dark, trying to see what he was doing, just as he felt his legs being pushed apart and Ron’s wet fingers rubbing against his entrance.

“Ron!” he gasped. “We can’t!”

“Shut up, Harry,” Ron whispered, slipping two fingers inside.

“Look, I missed you, too, but, oh,” Ron curled his fingers and Harry finished on a gurgling sound.

“Have to fuck you,” Ron said, kneeling between Harry’s wantonly spread thighs and freeing his fingers.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered as Ron pressed slowly inside him. “Please.”

Ron snorted. “You are so easy to seduce,” he said, folding Harry’s legs back onto his chest and leaning down for a kiss.

Harry whimpered.

“Who’s been seducing you while I’ve been gone?” Ron murmured, withdrawing and thrusting smoothly back inside.

Harry’s hands closed like vices on Ron’s arms. “No one,” he said. “Never. Stop fishing. Fuck, yes. Love you.”

“’Course you do,” Ron gasped, his rhythm starting to break down as he neared his climax. “Wouldn’t let just anyone fuck you in a fucking dungeon.”

“I dunno,” Harry said, arching up under him. “Draco is probably upstairs.”

Ron froze. “Not funny, Potter,” he growled, before slamming back into Harry’s body.

“Sorry,” Harry said, not sounding at all sorry. “Hurry up, Ron, I don’t want Snape to see your bare arse when he opens the door.”

“He’d just be jealous,” Ron gasped, burying his face in Harry’s hair and shaking as he spilled inside him.

“And then?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“And then we’d barely had time to get dressed when Snape came to get us,” Harry shrugged.

“So,” Hermione said, and Harry reluctantly looked at her. “That was the Power He Knew Not?”

“We were gonna tell you,” Harry muttered.

Hermione snorted. “When?”

Harry was about to look ashamed when Fred came bursting through the doors. “He’s awake,” he said, without preamble.

“How is he?” Harry said swiftly, pushing himself off the bed.

“Unreasonable; won’t let anyone examine him until he’s seen you’re alright!” Fred rolled his eyes. “I’ve been sent to collect you – dead or alive.”

“Alive, very much so,” Harry said, pausing only to drag a robe on over the hospital pyjamas and following Fred out of the room, Hermione trotting at their heels.

They flooed to St Mungo’s and he brushed past everyone who clamoured for his attention, taking the stairs at a run and skidding to a halt, out of breath and seeing stars, on the fourth floor.

There were any number of indistinguishable red heads gathered outside the Spell Damage ward and Harry grabbed the nearest one and asked where Ron was.

Mr and Mrs Weasley tried to waylay him, obviously concerned about his Condition, and he left Hermione to explain things to them.

His guide – Bill, as it turned out - took him through the doors and towards Ron’s bedside.

Harry smiled as he heard Ron’s voice from behind the screens. “And I’ll put that fucking thing somewhere more creative unless you bring Harry Potter here straight away.”

“He’d do it, too,” Harry said. “He’s more creative than you’d think.”

“Harry,” Ron breathed, as the unfortunate Healer fled and Harry sat on the edge of his bed and took his hands. “You’re OK; you did it.”

“We did it,” Harry said. “I’m so sorry he hurt you.”

Ron shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, we’re still alive,” he said. “Both of us; more than I dared hope for.”

“We’re still alive,” Harry nodded.

“Look, Harry,” Ron said seriously. “I think it’s time we told people; about us. It’s a day for celebrating, right?”

“Ah,” Harry said. “About that. Actually, quite a few people already know.”