Bound - H/R - NC-17
Title: Bound
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 6500
Rating: NC-17

OK, your Christmas drabble is a tad late, dear crystallekil, but it exploded.

Prompt: Oh, make it dirty. And fluffy. Um... haha... they waited exactly a year to have sex.

Which caused way more plot than you’d think!

It is unbetaed, and I have been staring at the words affect/effect all evening and can no longer tell which is which, so if I have made a mistake, well – look, Harry’s arse!!! There, that’ll distract you.

Oh, and mad_maudlin? Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!


Bound
****
Hermione translated the inscription on the casket containing Ravenclaw's bracelet and she sat down at the table with them afterwards with a very serious look on her face.

"I know what is needed to open the casket," she said.

"Well?" Harry asked eagerly.

"It seems that it's an amazing, layered curse – I've never seen anything so complicated!"

They smiled at her glowing face.

"When you open it, Harry, it will activate the curse."

"What'll it do to him?" Ron said quickly.

"Nothing, as such," she said, biting her lip. "He'll take out the bracelet and he has to clasp it around the wrist of the, um, second person, and that binds them together."

"Together, how?" Harry asked.

"Uh… sexually," she muttered.

Harry's eyes opened wide and he flushed. "Sexually, how?" he asked tentatively. "Like, married?"

"Not married," she said. "Bound. Bound together. It's not dangerous, not as long as you obey the conditions of the curse."

"Which are?" Harry asked, in a very resigned voice.

"You cannot have sex for exactly a year, to test the strength of your bond," she said, not meeting his eyes. "But then you must have sex to seal the Binding, or your partner will die."

"And then I'm Bound for ever?" Harry asked.

"Yes," she said, with a shrug.

"Oh, Lord," he said. "Why do these things always happen to me?"

Ron was looking from Harry to Hermione with a strange look on his face.

"And there's no other way?" Harry said helplessly.

"No other way," Hermione said.

"I can't ask you to…"

"Not me," Hermione interrupted.

"What?" Harry said, wrong footed.

"The, uh, curse is very specific about that," Hermione said firmly.

"How can the curse know who'll open it?" Harry demanded, "It can't say, 'But not Hermione'!"

"It doesn't mention any names, no," Hermione said. "But it requires two, um, two men," she finished in a small voice.

Ron made a strange, strangled noise,

"Two men?" Harry spluttered. "Are you insane?"

"It's not my fault," she protested. "The casket is the final Horcrux; Voldemort didn't open the casket to create the Horcrux, but if you want to destroy it, then you need to open it and remove the bracelet; if you remove the bracelet, you will have to give it to your partner; and you will be Bound together, forever."

"My partner?" Harry shouted. "What sort of curse is that? Who did Ravenclaw expect to open the casket?"

Hermione giggled.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"Slytherin," she said.

"What?" Harry asked. "Since when did Salazar Slytherin have a gay life partner?"

"Well, it seems Rowena was a bit of a matchmaker and had hopes for him and Godric Gryffindor."

Harry gaped.

Ron snorted.

Harry looked at him.

"Um," Harry said.

"Um," Ron said.

"No," Harry said.

"Well, who else?" Hermione said.

"And what d'you mean, 'No,' anyway?" Ron demanded.

Harry blinked at him. "What d'you mean, 'What d'you mean'?" Harry frowned.

"Well, who else you gonna ask?" Ron said, looking offended.

Harry boggled at him. "I'm not going to ask anyone," he said.

"But you have to," Ron shrugged.

They looked at each other.

"You have to," Hermione said.

"I have to," Harry echoed.

"We have to," Ron said.

"But you don't want to be Bound to me," Harry pointed out.

"Well," Ron coughed. "Not like this, I guess. But I am bound to you, Harry."

Harry opened his mouth to protest again, but Ron interrupted him.

"What do we have to do, Hermione?" he asked.

Harry sat there, blankly, as Hermione explained what they had to do. Had to do.

And Harry opened the casket.

And took out the ornate golden bracelet.

And clasped it around Ron's wrist.

****
Time passed.

At first it seemed that the bracelet changed nothing.

They were busy tracking You Know Who and avoiding Death Eaters, and it's not as if either of them had had a sex-life to give up.

Harry asked Ron about him and Hermione, but Ron just shook his head. "We're not together, Harry," he said. "And we're just not going to be."

"But you can't do that," Harry protested.

Ron sighed. "It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "This is more important."

They finally tracked down You Know Who and his scaly friend, and Harry made short work of destroying them both.

This didn't deal with the hoards of Death Eaters who were now after their heads in a big way, and they spent a couple of months helping the Order round them up.

By then, Harry realised he could no longer feel any tension between Ron and Hermione.

He hoped that they had somehow come to an agreement.

That they had said goodbye to the relationship they'd never had.

But, when the three of them were together, it wasn't any different from how it had always been.

And Harry had almost forgotten that he and Ron were Bound.

Until the day they went home.

The day they walked through the door at the Burrow and Ginny screamed and threw herself into his arms.

His arms closed awkwardly around her and she kissed him, soundly, and it hit him that this was something he couldn't have, anymore.

But that isn't what everyone else would expect. This was Ginny. And he'd come home to her, hadn't he?

Well, no, not if the Binding had anything to do with it.

He laughed self-conciously and held her at arms length. "Look at you," he said weakly. "You look great, Gin."

And he took her hand and they went and found Ron and Hermione in the kitchen.

After much food and drink, and many stories and hugs, with Ginny hanging on his arm the whole time, he followed Ron up the stairs to his room.

Ron sat on his bed and watched Harry get changed.

"What?" Harry finally asked, perching on the camp bed Mrs Weasley had set up for him.

"Ginny," Ron said simply.

Harry frowned. "What about Ginny?" he asked.

"You didn't say anything to her."

"About what?" Harry said stupidly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "About us," he said pointedly.

"Us?" Harry echoed. "What was I supposed to say?"

Ron shrugged. "You have to say something, Harry," he said. "You have to tell her we're Bound."

"Sorry,Ginny," Harry said mockingly. "We can't be together, because I have to shag your brother."

He missed the flash of pain that crossed Ron's face.

"It's not like that, Harry," he said quietly.

Harry frowned at him. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "You can't want this."

"Don’t,” Ron said, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, going to sit down opposite him on the other bed.

“It’s not like that,” Ron muttered again.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

Ron shrugged. “It must be the bracelet,” he said, running his fingers over it. “Because I don’t mind. Really. I guess it doesn’t affect you like that, because you’re not wearing it.” He stood and started to change.

Harry watched him undo his shirt.

"Are you saying you do want this?" he blurted out and Ron flushed.

"Yes," he said tightly.

"And not Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Not Hermione," Ron confirmed, sitting down glumly on his bed again.

"Does she know?"

"Of course she knows," Ron snapped. "She told us how the bracelet worked, didn't she?"

"No," Harry said. "Does she know the effect it's had on you?"

Ron glared at him. "It's not just the bracelet," he muttered. "It's you. D'you think I'd feel like this if Malfoy got a bracelet on me?"

"Oh," Harry said.

"Oh," Ron echoed. "Look it figures that the bracelet affects you differently. You put it on me." His head drooped and his hair covered his eyes.

"And you want me," Harry said. "Since when?"

Ron snorted. "The second you put the bracelet on me," he said. "It was like it severed the feelings I had for Hermione."

"I'm sorry, Ron."

"It's fine," Ron interrupted. "I didn't feel quite like this straight away; it's like it blocks out everyone else, and lets my feelings for you through."

"You don't care about anyone else?" Harry said weakly.

"I care," Ron said. "But not like this."

"So, you can't… love anyone else."

"No."

"You didn't say," Harry said.

Ron shrugged. "Well, you've had enough things to worry about. But now we're home. I thought you should know."

Harry took a deep breath, but found he didn't have anything to say and let it out in a in a rush. "Wow," he said, finally.

"Wow," Ron said mournfully.

"I'm sorry," Harry said.

"Stop saying that," Ron said. "Look, we're halfway through the year. I want this, I don't know if it's because of the bracelet or not, but when the year is up, I'll be happy to…"

"Be with me," Harry finished quietly.

"Yes," Ron said, flushing. "I don't know what's happening with you and Ginny, but the curse won't let you be with her, and I think you should end it now or it'll just be worse when we have to complete this thing."

"I… I haven't thought about Ginny for a long time," Harry admitted. "I don't know what I want. I want to want you, so this thing'll be easier, but I hadn't really thought about it. I didn't think you'd want it."

"Well, that gives you six months to court me, doesn't it?" Ron said with a hollow laugh.

"Yes," said Harry, seriously. "Yes, it does."

****
Harry lay awake for hours.

He hadn't expected this.

Truthfully, he hadn't given it that much thought at all.

It had happened so quickly, and he'd had no choice.

The casket had to be opened, the curse would be triggered, the bracelet must be worn, they'd be bound together for life.

But, at the time, Harry hadn't expected his life to last all that long.

Not something he was allowed to say to Ron and Hermione.

But it was something that meant he didn't think too hard about the consequences of being Bound to Ron.

And now, six months down the line, he was very much alive, he had an ex-girlfriend who thought he'd come back to her and a future, well, lover that had fallen in love with him.

Ron.

Ron had fallen in love with him.

And he wasn't sure what to think about it.

Well, firstly, he wasn't gay.

But secondly, he had to have sex with a man.

Which would be horribly embarrassing and awkward, if it was anyone but Ron.

So, thirdly, he simply had to fall in love right back within the next six months.

OK, he'd never been very good with planning, that was Hermione's thing, but it sounded simple enough.

He'd start in the morning.

****
After breakfast, Harry asked Ginny to go for a walk with him and cringed as he felt Ron’s and Mrs Weasley’s eyes follow them out the door.

He let Ginny take his hand as he led her over to the gnome infested hedge at the bottom of the garden.

Turning to face her, he dropped her hand and squared his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Um,” he said.

“You barely spoke to me yesterday, Harry,” she said quietly. “It’s alright, it’s been a year; I don’t expect you to feel the same way.”

“It’s not that, exactly,” he said. “There’s sort of someone else, sort of.”

“Someone else?” she echoed.

“Well, there will be,” he explained uselessly.

“There will be?” she said, baffled. “When?”

“Christmas Eve,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “You spent a year fighting Death Eaters and destroying Dark Artefacts – at what point did you find the time to order a bride from a catalogue? And with a six month delivery time – must be a top of the range model. No wonder you…”

“Ginny, don’t,” he interrupted. “Let me try and explain.”

She raised a sceptical eyebrow.

“It was last Christmas Eve,” he said. “One of the Artefacts we destroyed had a curse on it.”

“A new girlfriend curse?” she asked.

“Sort of,” he shrugged. “There was this bracelet and it’s Bound us together and next Christmas Eve we have to sleep together and then… that’s that.”

“That’s that?” she said. “A curse? Tell Bill about it – he’ll be able to break the curse.” Her eyes sparkled.

“No, he said, shaking his head. “It’s too late for that. We did it willingly and Hermione says…”

“Hermione,” she gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. “You’re Bound to Hermione?”

“No!” he shouted. “No, she… no! Anyway, the curse specifically said it had to be two men, so…”

“Ron,” she breathed, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. “You’re with my brother?”

“Yes, but it’s…”

“But it’s Ron,” she said, her nose wrinkling.

“Look, Gin,” Harry sighed. “You know I never intended this, but it’s happened and there is nothing I can do. Ron is wearing my bracelet and we’re together, and at Christmas…”

“You’re gonna sleep together,” she sniggered.

“It’s not funny,” he said sternly.

“Sorry,” she said, sobering. “But it’s either laugh or cry.”

“Oh, Ginny,” he said. “All I wanted was to protect you, to protect everyone I love, and I thought I’d finally be able to do what I wanted to when the war was over.”

“It sucks to be the Chosen One, doesn’t it?” she asked gently.

“Yes, it does,” he admitted. “But I can’t turn away from this – from Ron – it’s more important than anything, now. All I have to do is fall in love with him by Christmas.”

He looked rather lost and very young and she stepped forward and hugged him.

“It’ll be OK, Harry,” she whispered as he rested his cheek on her hair. “You’ve always been so close – it’ll work out, you see. And I’ll be fine.”

****
Mrs Weasley was happy to have them back and more than happy to have them stay at the Burrow, but they had grown used to taking care of themselves and it took them just a few weeks to find a flat – three bedrooms on the top floor of an old house.

Harry put his foot down and insisted on paying the rent until they all found jobs, and Ron agreed surprisingly easily.

The Ministry had waived the need for N.E.W.T.s for their year, but this wasn't good enough for Hermione and she planned to take them at the end of a summer of swotting, so she was flooing to the Ministry each day to study in their library.

She hadn't even tried to convince Harry and Ron to do the same, and they slept late and then lazed around the flat in a state of undress until well after lunch, when they usually managed a drink or two at the Leaky Cauldron before dragging Hermione out of the library for something to eat.

"I can't wait until September," she said smugly at dinner one evening.

"Yool kurn ve Minstry ong is heag," Ron said through a mouthful of Bombay aloo.

"No," she said. "Nor for what I'll do at the Ministry. I can't wait to see how you are both too soft and flabby for your Quidditch trials."

Ron glowered at her, but she had obviously struck a nerve, because he started rising early in the mornings to run before breakfast.

Harry didn't join him, as Seekers needed different muscle development, but it did get him thinking.

There were just four months left until they had to seal the binding.

Until they had to have sex.

He didn't see how he could go from nothing to full sex, but that was how it had to be.

Not so much as a kiss beforehand.

But that didn't mean they couldn't date.

The doorbell rang the next day when Ron had his feet up on the coffee table, watching the Muggle television that Harry had installed.

"Can you get that, Harry?" he called. "I'm watching Neighbours."

The doorbell rang again.

Ron huffed and swung his legs off the table. Half watching the television over his shoulder, he opened the door.

When he realised who was at the door, he gaped.

Harry was wearing the trousers and crisp white shirt from his dress robes; he was carrying a sunflower.

“Harry?” Ron said carefully.

“Can I come in?” Harry said.

Ron blinked. “You live here,” he pointed out, backing out of the way.

“I wondered if you’d like to go out for lunch?” Harry asked, stepping into the flat and handing Ron the flower.

“A flower?” Ron said blankly. “What’s going on?”

“I thought roses would be too girly,” Harry explained, crossing to stand by the fireplace as Ron closed the door. “And this was the orangest flower I could find; for the Cannons.”

“But why?” Ron asked, looking at it.

“So I could call for you and ask you out to lunch,” Harry said quietly.

“We usually go out to lunch,” Ron said, frowning.

“I mean as a date,” Harry said.

Ron’s eyes flew open. “A date?” he asked, staring at Harry and then back at his flower. “You soft git, what d’you want a date for?”

Harry frowned, too. “Because we are supposed to be together, and I just thought it would be nice to go out and stuff before… you know.”

Ron smiled slowly and shook his head. “You thought it was the gentlemanly thing to do; get to know me better before taking me to bed.”

“It’s not funny,” Harry protested. “And I couldn’t know you any better – you’re the most important person in my life anyway, Ron. I just need to think of you romantically, before…” he shrugged.

“Romantically?” Ron asked, biting his lip. “Hence the flower?”

Harry grunted.

“Honestly, Harry,” Ron said. “The only bloke who’d like flowers is Neville.”

“OK,” Harry said, slumping down onto the couch. “Forget romantically. I just want to be where you are on this.”

Ron sat on the coffee table in front of him. “I’m really not in a flower sort of place, mate,” he said.

“You don’t think of me romantically?” Harry asked.

“What?” Ron said, clasping his hands over his heart, fluttering his eyelashes and sighing dramatically. “Like, oh, that dishy Harry Potter is coming to take me out to lunch today. He is so dreamy – I wonder if he’ll try and kiss me?”

“Git,” Harry muttered. “How do you think of me, then?”

“You’re Harry,” Ron said simply. “You’re my best mate, I’d do anything for you, I’d die for you, there is no one I’d rather spend my day with, doing anything or nothing, no one I know better, no one knows me better.”

“Well, yes,” Harry said helplessly.

“And it physically hurts to stop myself touching you,” Ron added.

“Oh,” Harry said.

Ron tentatively reached for his hand and laced their fingers. “I don’t want girly things from you, Harry,” he said. “When we go for a walk, I want to talk about Quidditch, not hold hands. When we go out, I want a pint at the Leaky Cauldron, not coffee at Madam Puddifoot’s”.

Harry laughed.

“And, at Christmas, when we’re together, you don’t have to worry about me slapping your face if you try and touch my chest. I want everything; I’ll do anything.”

“God,” Harry said, his pulse quickening unexpectedly. “I can do that.”

“See,” Ron smirked. “This’ll be so much easier than girls.”

Harry smiled back at him. “Anything, huh?” he asked.

“Anything,” Ron said, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Then how about a masculine lunch with a pint at the Leaky Cauldron?”

****
Ron teased him about it, and Hermione smiled into her coffee at the breakfast table, but Harry made a point of treating Ron like they were dating.

He poured his coffee for him, he passed sugar and milk before he was asked.

He bought him presents – Quidditch magazines and Muggle gadgets, rather than flowers – and took him to the cinema, where, despite his exposure to television, he still asked questions all the way through, in a penetrating whisper, and Harry smiled at him fondly as he answered.

“Why are you letting him do this?” Hermione demanded one day, cornering Ron when Harry was at Seeker trials for Puddlemere.

“Maybe I like being spoiled,” Ron said. “He’s a very attentive boyfriend.”

Hermione snorted.

“Look, Hermione,” Ron smiled. “He needs to do it. He needs to think of me as his boyfriend. It’s only three months until we have to be together.”

“But you don’t think of him as a boyfriend,” Hermione pointed out.

“No,” Ron agreed. “Boyfriend is far to weak a word for what I feel for him, but Harry doesn’t have the advantage of this,” he raised his arm and shook the bracelet at her. “For me, there’s no one else but Harry, there can’t be. But he only knows this in his head, and he’s trying to feel it. He’s trying so hard.”

“You can’t try hard to fall in love with someone,” Hermione protested.

“He’s doing his best, Hermione, don’t nag him about it.”

So, time slipped away.

Hermione passed her exams and started work at the Ministry.

Harry was taken on by Puddlemere, and Ron by the Cannons reserves.

Ron was so speechless with joy that Harry asked how come the bracelet didn’t block out his love for the Cannons.

“They were my first love, Harry,” Ron said solemnly.

There was little time for dating when training started, but Harry felt himself coming home to the flat after a day’s strenuous activity and almost aching for a physical release.

And he found himself thinking about Ron.

Found himself looking at Ron when he wandered aimlessly around the flat after taking a shower, bare-chested, damp hair curling against his neck.

Found himself jerking awake in the middle of the night with images of Ron in his head and a wet patch in his pyjamas.

Found himself looking for Ron in the crowd at Puddlemere games, when he should have been looking for the Snitch.

They hadn’t really spoken about it by mid-December, when Harry had a week’s training camp before the game against the Cannons on Christmas Eve.

Harry threw himself into hours of training, missing Ron like never before, especially in the shower at the end of the day, and looking forward to seeing him after the match – looking forward to going home with him – to being with him in every way.

He was almost climbing the walls with sexual frustration when the team gathered in the changing room for the pre-match harangue by Oliver Wood.

He wasn’t really concentrating when he heard Oliver bark his name.

“What?” he asked, shaking his head to get rid of the image of Ron smiling down at him.

“I said,” Oliver snapped, eyeing him fiercely. “Your friend is playing today, I hope that won’t be a problem.”

“My friend?” Harry echoed.

“Ron Weasley,” Oliver said. “John Stewart is injured and the Cannons are playing their reserve Keeper. I know that won’t affect you directly, as Seeker, but I hope that it won’t be a problem.”

“Ron’s playing?” Harry asked stupidly.

“Harry!” Oliver snapped.

“Sorry, Oliver, no, not a problem – just a surprise.”

Harry tried to concentrate on the rest of Oliver’s speech, but his mind and heart were racing.

He’d never played against Ron before; and it was his beloved Cannons; and Ron’s first game as starting Keeper; and Ron looked absolutely incredible in his team robes; and they had been apart for a week; and they were going to have sex later tonight.

If the match ended tonight.

God, what if he couldn’t keep his eyes off Ron and he didn’t see the Snitch and the game went on past midnight and the curse wasn’t broken and Ron fell dead off his broom.

Not something he could mention now, as Oliver would probably kill him.

Oh, God, why hadn’t he said he couldn’t play?

He thought he was going to be sick.

He followed the rest of the team numbly along the corridor and mounted his broom. One by one they shot out into the stadium and did two laps to the accompaniment of screaming fans.

It was three o’clock on an overcast winter’s day and he scanned the sky and the stands with narrowed eyes. No rain likely, but maybe a bit too dark.

To a lesser roar, the visiting team burst into view on their brooms, circling the stadium.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off Ron, who flew joyously past, his hair and his robes streaming behind him.

Harry swallowed nervously and watched the Cannons line up opposite them to hear the referee’s words of caution.

And Ron’s eyes met his.

And his heart nearly burst out of his chest.

He loved him.

He really, honestly loved him.

And he was going to focus every ounce of concentration on finding that blasted Snitch and keeping him safe and getting his hands on that lanky body under the Keeper’s robes.

Ron smiled and peeled off towards his hoops and Harry shook himself and pointed his broom skywards, circling higher and higher as the game started.

Harry was such an instinctive player, and he rarely let another player affect his game – well, since Malfoy, anyway – but he found he was aware of Ron at all times.

Thankfully, although not for Puddlemere, Ron was having a good game, and the cheers from the visiting fans rang out for each save.

Both teams were neck and neck after five hours play, and the Snitch had only been out once, at the far end of the stadium for both Seekers, who had got nowhere near it before it disappeared, but it hadn’t looked like a terribly fast Snitch, and Harry was confident he could catch it if it reappeared close enough to him.

He took another lap of the stadium, trying hard to concentrate, but unable to resist watching Ron as he passed the Cannons’ hoops.

As he shook himself and looked round for the opposing Seeker he was furious to see him diving towards him from the far side of the stadium.

The Snitch was out, and hovering inches from the ground in the very centre of the field.

Harry dove.

The Cannons Seeker had been much higher above the game to start with and Harry, although he had started his move second, had the advantage of diving from hoop height.

They were closing on the Snitch and each other at an exhilarating and terrifying rate and Harry could hear screams ringing in his ears as he swooped in front of the other man and snatched it from his fingertips.

Holding the struggling ball aloft, he did a victory lap; he flashed past Ron, who was drooping over his broom and breathing hard and climbed to meet his team mates.

****
Harry had only stripped off his robe and boots and his protective gear. He was standing in the showers attached to the home changing room, discussing the match with Oliver, when the door opened and a sweaty redhead peeped in.

“Good game, Ron,” Oliver said generously, as he’d won.

“Thanks,” Ron said, without even looking at the Puddlemere captain, his eyes locked on Harry as he almost stalked him across the room.

Oliver looked from one to the other, shrugged, whistled and left.

Even though the look on Ron’s face made certain parts of his body very interested indeed, Harry couldn’t help taking a couple of steps back as Ron approached.

He backed into one of the shower cubicles and grabbed hold of the curtain as he slipped on the wet tiles. The curtain, complete with rod, jerked free form the wall and landed on top of him as he peered up at Ron from the tangled mess.

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Nice of you to throw yourself at my feet,” he smirked. “But I think we should be going.”

“Going?” Harry asked.

“Home,” Ron said, reaching for Harry’s hand and pulling him to his feet.

Harry held the shower curtain in front of his body, to hide the growing bulge in his uniform trousers.

“C’mon,” Ron said. “Let’s shower at home, at least we have a functioning curtain rod.”

And he Disapparated.

Harry dropped the shower curtain.

He took a deep, cleansing breath, to help his concentration, and followed.

Ron was in their bathroom, stripping off his wrist braces, his robes puddled on the floor.

“Let me,” Harry said, reaching for the straps on Ron’s wrist.

Ron clasped his hand and stopped him. “Look, I know this is going to be weird,” he said.

"I want it," Harry said quietly.

Ron's eyes flickered up to meet his. "What?"

"I want it," Harry said firmly.

"Me?"

"You."

"You want me?"

"I want you," Harry confirmed.

They looked at each other.

“Are you sure…”

“I love you,” Harry interrupted.

“Harry, you don’t have to...”

“I dream about you; I fantasise about you; it… it physically hurts to stop myself touching you.”

“God, Harry,” Ron whispered, his hands coming up to cup Harry’s face.

Ron stared at him for so long he started to speak, but Ron shook his head slightly and finally leant down and kissed him.

Harry reached for Ron’s wrists and tangled his fingers in the laces of his wrist braces, keeping him in place.

Their lips moved chastely against each other for a long time and Harry’s heart was bursting out of his chest by the time Ron opened his mouth and Harry could taste him.

They were both dirty and sweaty from a six-hour match, but Ron still managed to taste of chocolate and Harry smiled against his lips.

“More,” he whispered.

“Shower,” Ron muttered.

Harry reluctantly let go of him and they gazed at each other for a moment before Ron tore frantically at his wrist guards again.

Harry laughed and knelt down to tackle Ron’s boots and shin guards.

They kicked them away and Harry stood again, grabbing a kiss before Ron turned away to pull the shower curtain aside and turn on the shower.

Harry watched the shoulder muscles move inside Ron’s damp, cream shirt and threw his glasses aside, reaching for the button and zip on his own trousers.

Ron didn’t give him a chance to drop them, hooking a finger through Harry’s belt-loops, stepping into the shower and dragging him with.

Harry gasped and started to protest, until he saw Ron’s shirt darken under the spray and cling to his chest.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, before finding himself pressed up against the wall of the cubicle, with Ron’s knee thrust between his and Ron’s hands unbuttoning him.

“Yes,” he hissed, reaching for Ron’s shirt buttons and latching his mouth onto Ron’s neck.

Ron managed to get Harry’s trousers undone, but the thick, wet material clung to his thighs and Ron knelt to tug them clumsily down. Harry stepped out of them and Ron pulled off his socks and looked pointedly at the bulge in Harry’s boxers that was at eye-level.

Harry whimpered.

Ron smiled and started unbuttoning Harry’s shirt from the bottom up, kissing the skin he revealed.

By the time he was standing, Harry was shaking and he grabbed Ron and kissed him fiercely, slipping his hands inside Ron’s shirt and running his fingers over his chest.

Ron hummed into his mouth and unzipped his own trousers.

Harry stilled his hand and knelt at his feet, tugging hard to reveal a lot of freckled thigh and a jock strap.

He dragged Ron’s trousers and socks off as Ron undid his jock strap and groaned in relief; Harry looked up and his eyes widened at the evidence of Ron’s arousal.

He licked his lips.

Ron crumpled to his knees in front of him, grabbing the lapels of Harry’s shirt and bringing their mouths together again.

They knelt and clung and kissed under the spray, the water drumming on their heads, running down their faces and into their mouths as they exchanged slow, open-mouthed kisses.

Ron managed to wriggle out of his boxers, one-handed as the other hand was wrapped in Harry’s hair, and Harry gasped as Ron’s cock poked him in the hip.

“Boxers, Harry,” Ron murmured, and went back to sucking on Harry’s tongue.

Harry stopped stroking Ron’s chest for long enough to push his boxers down and kick them away, and he pushed his hips forward, rubbing his cock against Ron’s.

“Christ,” Ron gasped. “C’mere.”

He sat heavily on the floor of the shower cubicle and pulled Harry down into his lap; Harry wrapped his legs around Ron’s waist and scooted closer.

“Brilliant,” Ron murmured, crossing his ankles behind Harry’s arse and holding him close.

Their cocks were pulled flush against each other and Harry reached down and wrapped his hand around them; Ron moaned and covered Harry’s hand with his own.

Their free hands tangled in each other’s hair, they kissed again as their joined hands slowly stroked up and down their aching erections.

Harry dragged his eyes open to see Ron watching him, his blue eyes dark and the water sparkling on his lashes.

“Come to bed, Ron,” he whispered. “We can’t do this properly here.”

Ron wrapped his free arm round Harry’s shoulders. “Take me to bed,” he said.

Harry concentrated hard and Side-Along-Apparated them into his bedroom.

They appeared on his bed, legs still tightly wrapped around each other, sodden Quidditch shirts unbuttoned and half pushed off their shoulders.

Harry untangled himself and knelt between Ron’s parted legs.

“I want everything to be perfect,” Harry whispered. “But it’s getting late and we need to be Bound.”

“It is perfect,” Ron said, stroking Harry’s face. “Just do it Harry, I don’t want to die on you here.”

“Way to ruin the mood,” Harry laughed. “If you die while I’m inside you, I will never forgive you.”

Ron lay back and pulled Harry down on top of him.

They kissed some more; deep, drugging kisses that were so intoxicating it was a while before Harry remembered what he was supposed to do.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he warned Ron, keeling up once more so Ron could spread his legs further. “I mean, I read up about it…”

Ron snorted. “Mate, if I’d wanted to sleep with Hermione…”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “I am trying to be sensitive here,” he whispered. “But if that’s not what you want…”

Ron grinned as Harry reached beneath his pillow for the bottle of lubricant that Hermione had helped him buy, then bit his lip as Harry pushed hard on his shins, pressing his legs down against his chest and opening him up for Harry’s probing fingers.

Ron held his legs up as Harry spread the gel-like substance, his fingers running over and over Ron’s entrance.

Ron was almost hypnotised by the rhythm Harry set, his eyes fluttering closed as Harry circled and stroked and explored.

Then flying open again as Harry pressed a fingertip inside him.

“Is that OK?” Harry whispered, leaning over Ron and reaching for a clumsy kiss.

“Hmmm,” Ron murmured. “’s fine, ‘s good.”

Harry slid in further, marvelling at the tightness as he slowly fucked Ron with his finger.

Ron muttered something incoherent in the back of his throat and he pulled his legs up higher, lifting his arse clear of the bed.

Harry smirked and pushed his finger in as far as he could go.

Ron was breathing through his teeth and moaning quietly.

“I’m gonna try now, OK?” Harry asked, removing his finger and massaging Ron gently with the pad of his thumb.

“Oh, yeah,” Ron murmured.

Harry moved closer, cupping Ron’s arse with one hand and holding his cock to Ron’s entrance with the other.

Biting his lip and looking nervously back and forth between Ron’s arse and his face, he slowly pushed through the oh-so-tight ring of muscle and into incredible smooth heat.

They both gasped and Harry stopped moving.

“OK, Ron?” he said.

“OK,” Ron said. “You can move; it’s good.”

“You sure?” Harry asked weakly, his muscles trembling as he held back.

“Yeah, sure, good,” Ron whispered, breathing heavily. “Full, very.”

Harry nodded gratefully and slowly thrust the rest of the way in, panting and closing his eyes at the feeling of Ron’s body drawing him inside.

“This is not going to last,” he gasped and Ron laughed shakily.

Ron’s hands slipped from his the backs of his knees down to where Harry’s hands were gripping his thighs.

Their fingers laced together and Harry breathed deeply and started to move.

Ron was hot and tight and everywhere and Harry was so glad Ron had given him permission not to be perfect, because he lasted just a handful of deep, hard thrusts before he lost control and spilled inside Ron’s body.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he whispered bending forward and resting his forehead on Ron’s chest.

Ron’s hands came up to stroke his hair as the stars dazzling his eyes receded and his breath slowed.

“Don’t be an idiot, Harry,” Ron whispered. “That was incredible.”

Harry looked up and squinted to bring Ron’s face into focus. “Incredible?” he asked.

“You were inside me, Harry,” Ron said. “I watched you fuck me, I watched you come. Fucking incredible.”

Harry laughed and carefully withdrew from Ron’s body, leaning forward for a kiss. “I love you,” he said.

“Sap,” Ron replied.

Harry shook his head and sat back on his heels to finally strip off his sodden Quidditch shirt.

Ron sat up carefully and struggled out of his own shirt, turning the sleeves inside out as usual.

“Ron!” Harry gasped.

“What?”

“The bracelet…”

The bracelet had come off with the shirt and lay innocently on the bed, its clasp open.

Harry looked up into Ron’s face, starting to panic and feeling his heart race. “Do you… d’you still…”

Ron reached for him. “Only you, Harry,” he said. “Always. The bracelet just showed me how much.”

Harry flowed into Ron’s arms and buried his face in his neck. “Always,” he said.

Ron held him for a few moments.

“I’m sorry you lost the match, Ron,” Harry murmured, running a finger down Ron’s bare arm. “Your first match.”

Ron shrugged. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I played for the Cannons, and played well – no stupid mistakes. Losing to the Great Harry Potter is hardly shameful, and no one can blame me for the loss, you were just closer to the Snitch.”

Harry snuggled closer and kissed Ron’s neck. “Except, of course, that I shouldn’t have been flying that low down,” he said. “But I couldn’t resist flying down to admire your arse in your Quidditch uniform.”

He protested loudly as Ron flipped him over and pinned him to the bed.

He stopped as Ron’s hand ran over the curve of his arse and dipped between his thighs.