Godric's Hollow - Chapter Eight : Elements - H/R - NC-17
Title: Godric’s Hollow
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17

This is my Big Damn Table, turned into a multi-chaptered novella.

One hundred stories inspired by Broke Back Mountain.

Ron looks back on his life with and without Harry.


Chapter Eight : Elements

Water
That autumn, Charlie followed her sisters to school, and that left just Teddy at home.

Or not.

Because Teddy would always be found wherever Alexandra was, so that actually left Teddy next door.

They lived in their own little world, red head and black head close together, and it made me feel a bit of a fool, being jealous of my seven-year-old son.

Hermione obviously decided I’d be bored in an empty house, because she drew up a long list of things I needed to do in the garden before the weather turned.

So, there I was, up a ladder unblocking the gutter.

A very glamorous job.

It had its compensations.

Harry stood at the bottom of the ladder, one hand on the upright beside my ankle. He was supposed to be steadying me, but I don’t think I have ever been more aware of my own ankle, and I felt far from steady.

Just as I reached out to clear the leaves blocking the gutter, Harry’s fingers circled my ankle and slid up my trouser leg.

Unfortunately, he was standing right under the downspout and he was drenched when I yelped and dislodges the leaves, releasing the icy rainwater dammed behind them.

He flicked his sopping hair out of his face and looked up and met my eyes.

“Right,” he smirked, tugging hard on my leg.

I half kicked him away and half slithered down the ladder, jumping the last three rungs and trying to pull my leg free but he pulled again and pushed me over when I tottered on my free leg.

Straddling my waist he tried to pin my arms down above my head while shaking his hair like a dog and showering me with raindrops.

I bucked and twisted, trying to throw him off, and Hermione came out into the garden and said, ‘Ahem!’ just as I rubbed my denim-covered erection against his arse.

Luckily, we were both flushed from laughter and exertion and she just rolled her eyes and went back into the house.

“Sorry,” he said, catching my eye and scrambling to his feet.

“Too close, Harry,” I hissed, adjusting my trousers. “Too fucking close.”

Fire
On one of the last fine days in November I was upstairs, working my way through Hermione’s indoor list.

Tidying the attic.

I threw open a window, to let some light and fresh air in, only to choke on smoke, instead.

Peering out of the window, I could see Harry in his garden, burning leaves.

I shook my head and smiled.

He always did it the Muggle way – my dad was fascinated.

He raked the last of the leaves from his lawn and threw them on the bonfire.

His back was to me and I could see his wind-whipped hair outlined against the flames.

Which were the colour of my hair.

It looked for all the world like he was being caressed by them, wrapped up in them, and I wanted to be able to reach out and touch him.


Earth
It was a hash winter, and the earth was hard as stone when we buried my mum.

All the grandchildren were crying.

All the daughters-in-law, too.

My brothers looked stunned, my dad looked bereft.

Hermione clung to my arm, patting and stroking it, obviously thinking she was comforting me, but all I could feel was the heat from Harry’s body, as he stood on my other side.

All I could think was that I wanted him to hold me.

And that we couldn’t have been in a less appropriate place.

We each threw a rock-hard clod of earth down onto the coffin and I thought I was going to be sick.


Air
The house was too full. Grandchildren under foot everywhere, all the daughters-in-law preparing food in Mum's kitchen, people spilling out into the garden, where they stamped their feet and rubbed their arms and puffed out hot, steamy breaths.

I went looking for my dad, and found him looking rather old and lost, sitting in his favourite chair and staring at Mum's.

They'd been together for fifty years and I didn't think it'd be very long before they were together again.

I hesitated in the doorway and he looked up and smiled vaguely and waved me in.

He gestured to Mum's chair and I sat gingerly and nodded at him.

"It's hard," he said, quietly.

"Yeah," I said.

"Being apart from the one you love."

"Yes, Dad," I said.

"Molly and I often talked about it, you know, Ron."

"A... about who'd go first?" I hazarded, tentatively, wishing I'd left him to his thoughts.

"Oh, no," he said, looking surprised. "No, that would be rather pointless, wouldn't it?"

I shrugged.

"No, we talked about you, Ron. You look so lost."

"Me?"

"I want you to be happy, Ron, that's all."

"I... I'm fine, Dad," I said, rather touched. "It's you I'm worried about."

"Oh, I'll be with her again soon enough," he said calmly. "I just wish that you could have the same thing."

"Dad?"

"I wish you could be with your loved one."

"What?" I said. "Dad, really, I'm fine. Great. Me and Hermione are..."

"Not Hermione," he interrupted gently.

"N...not Hermione?" I asked, my voice catching.

"I wish you and Harry could be together," he said simply and I gaped at him.

I couldn't breathe.

"How..."

"I'm your father," he laughed. "Don't you know what your children need?"

"But... but when?"

"We always knew, Ron. It was during the war, wasn't it?"

I sat and stared at him, totally stunned. How much of the reason I had never left to be with Harry was fear of my parents' reactions?

"Oh god, Dad, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"I messed everything up."

"You always do what's best for everyone else, Ron, that's your problem."

"I didn't mean it to happen," I said, helplessly.

"Happen originally, or keep happening?" he asked shrewdly.

I ran my hands through my hair and made a strangled noise. "Happening originally was, um, unexpected," I admitted. "But then he left. I didn't know what else to do."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you got married? I wondered what you thought you were doing."

I groaned. "And you couldn't have asked me that twenty years ago?"

"I wanted to," he admitted. "But Molly thought it was for the best that you put it behind you. She thought you and Hermione would make a go of it."

"We have," I assured him. "And I love my kids."

"But?"

I sighed and shrugged. "It would have been different."

"It would have been different if Harry had stayed," he confirmed.

I nodded.

"I know exactly what you're feeling, Ron," he said and I looked up, rather alarmed.

He snorted. "Not that I ever gave up my ‘gay lover’," he said and I bit my lip. "You'd have missed out on your children; I'd have missed out on eight grandchildren. But we wouldn't have known that, would we?"

"Oh, Dad," I groaned. "It's just... too late. There are the kids."

"They're growing up, Ron."

I frowned at him.

"And there's Hermione!"

"I think she'd understand."

"Dad! Stop it! I'm not leaving. It's too late to be together. We're just..."

"You still see him, don't you?"

"Of course I see him..."

"You still see him, Ron."

"Yeah. I'm not proud of myself. We tried to stop. When Ginny died, we stopped, but..."

"You love him."

"I love him."

"You need him."

"More than the air that I breathe."


Spirit
I was up in my old room, sitting on my bed, hearing the voices echoing up from the garden, hearing my dad’s voice echoing in my head.

The door opened without anyone knocking, and I knew who it was.

It was Harry, holding a bottle of Firewhiskey.

“Hey,” he said, sitting beside me on the bed. I grunted in reply.

He waved the bottle at me. “Your dad sent Hermione and the kids home and gave me this and sent me upstairs,” he said, obliviously.

“Oh, god,” I muttered.

“What?” he asked, frowning. “He was really sweet…” he trailed off, looking at my face.

Which I’m sure was an unreadable panicked blur.

Hermione always snorts when she’s reading a novel and a character reads ‘amazement, irritation, concern, worry, love, resignation and I-wonder-if-I-left-the-tap-running?’ running across another character’s face, and I am sure Harry couldn’t tell what I was feeling.

Irritation at Dad’s meddling, sympathy with him for losing his soulmate, guilt at Hermione being packed off home, worry about how Harry would react when I told him that Dad wasn’t just sending him up here to get a mate plastered, embarrassment at the way Harry would react when he found out he’d been sent up here to seduce me.

I made a strangled noise.

“It’s OK,” he said, putting an arm round me. “What d’you need, Ron? What can I do?”

I knew what I needed – and tried hard to forget that Dad did, too – and I took the bottle of Firewhiskey and took a long drink, coughing as it burned down my chest.

I offered it to him and he took a sip. “D’you want to get drunk?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, swallowing another mouthful.

We traded the bottle back and forth for a while, until I felt flushed and relaxed and I lay down with my head in his lap.

He was idly running his fingers through my hair and I sighed and turned towards him, curling up and nuzzling my face into his groin.

“Ron,” he gasped, tugging on my hair to pull my head away as I tried to mouth him through his jeans.

“I want you,” I whined.

“Not here, Ron,” he whispered, stroking my neck and making me ache to feel his hands all over my body. “We can’t.”

“Can,” I muttered, flipping onto my back. “That’s why Dad sent you up to me.”

He snorted. “I doubt it, mate. He sent me up to take care of you.”

“Ah, Harry,” I smiled up at him. “You know the best way to take care of me.”

He flushed – from the alcohol, the embarrassment and, judging by what I felt pressed against my left ear, arousal.

“Yeah, but your dad doesn’t,” he stammered.

“Yes, he does,” I said.

“Well, in abstract, I suppose,” Harry laughed. “But he’d assume it was Hermione going down on you.”

“He sent Hermione home,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but he…” he trailed off when he saw me waggling my eyebrows suggestively.

“Ron?” he quavered.

“We had a bit of a chat,” I admitted.

“Ron?” he gasped. “You told him?”

“He knew,” I shrugged.

Harry pushed me out of his lap and leapt to his feet, standing over me quivering and crackling with magic.

“He knew?” he finally gasped.

“He always knew,” I added.

Harry sagged so suddenly that he fell to the floor beside the bed. I sat up and reached for him and he took my hands and knelt between my knees.

“They guessed straight away; Mum and Dad,” I said quietly, lacing my fingers with his. “But then you left and then I was getting married and Dad wanted to ask me what the hell I was doing, but Mum talked him out of it. She wanted me to move on.”

“They knew?” he moaned. “They knew when I came back? When I married Ginny? When Ginny died? When Molly and I spent every day looking after the children? They knew? They knew about us?” His voice cracked.

I held his hands tightly. “It’s OK, Harry,” I sighed.

He shook his head slowly. “It isn’t, Ron,” he sighed.

“He…”

“Wants us to be happy,” I interrupted, pulling him closer and wrapping my arms around him. “Thinks it’s a terrible waste not to be with the one you love; has given us this time alone together, because he could see that I needed you to hold me and that Hermione couldn’t do it.”

He leant back in my arms and looked up at me. “I feel awful,” he said.

“Please, Harry,” I said, taking his face in my hands. “I need you. It’s always been about when you need me, but this time… please…”

He blinked. “It.. it hasn’t just been when I need you,” he said, horrified.

“Oh, Harry, it has,” I sighed. “And you know I’ll always take care of you. But just this once, can’t it be what I need?”

His eyes filled with tears. “Ron,” he said, shaking his head. “I… I never wanted to seem so selfish. I… it’s that…”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said.

“It does,” he hissed. He took a deep breath. “I want to be with you all the time, Ron, I really do. But I know we can’t be, and I don’t want to outstay my welcome. I guess I can usually manage OK, but when I feel really bad then I just can’t cope without you – but I don’t want you to feel… used. I didn’t know it looked like that. We’ll do anything you want. Whenever you want. Anything.” He looked stricken.

“Oh, Harry, I don’t feel used,” I said. “And if I do, well, I’m happy to be used – happy that it’s me you want.” He shook his head again, but I carried on. “I want you all the time, too. You know that. I know we’re making the best of a bad situation, and I won’t ask for more. Not usually. But tonight. Please.”

“Anything,” he choked, reaching for me at last.

At last he bore me back onto the bed and kissed me hungrily, one hand in my hair, one hand clumsily unzipping my trousers and trying to tug them down.

I happily helped him by lifting my arse off the bed, and then I undid his jeans and thrust my hand inside his boxers.

He hissed as I touched him and his eyes glittered down at me before our mouths came together again.

His mouth was hot and slightly desperate as he kissed his way along my jaw and down my throat and I wanted to hold tight and just side along Apparate him to a dessert island and never come home.

I threw my head back as he bit my neck. “What d’you want?” he whispered against my skin, grinding down into my hand.

“Oh, god, anything,” I gasped. “Just quickly.”

He laughed shakily and I shoved him off me slightly so I could reach between our bodies.

“Th…there,” I stuttered, pressing my cock up against his and wrapping my hand around them both.

His free hand joined mine and he started moving; thrusting against me, thrusting into the joint circle of our hands as our fingers tangled together.

It had been months since we’d been together and I had been close to tears all week anyway and I sobbed into his hair as I bucked desperately under him until I came across our hands.

I think I freaked him out, because I had never cried during sex before, no matter how miserable we’d been, and he tried to pull his hand out of mine, tried to clumsily comfort me, but I held tight and thrust up at him, my softening cock sliding easily against his as my come spread between us.

“Come for me, Harry,” I gasped.

“Ron, you’re…”

“Please.”

He kissed me gently and buried his face in my neck as he resumed thrusting.

I ran my thumb over the head of his cock each time it appeared between our fingers and I ran my other hand down his back and cupped a cheek of his arse, pulling him against me each time it clenched in my hand. He moved faster and faster and finally ground against me and a harsh sound was ripped from his throat as he came.

“I love you,” I whispered into his hair.

He leant on his elbow and looked down at me. “Only you,” he said.