Ron’s Legendary Charisma - H/R - NC-17
Title : Ron’s Legendary Charisma
Author : shocfix/jonquileadbettr
Pairing : Harry/Ron
Rating : NC-17
Words : 2500
Recipient : Urania Scholastica

Written for the 2007 reversathon - gosh, time flies – another reversathon, already? – for Urania Scholastica, who asked for…

Post-war, Harry comes back from an extended vacation to discover that Ron's befriending some Muggle university students who live near him. Harry is, of course, not at all jealous, or if he is it's only because he's not seeing enough of his best friend, not because one of the Muggle guys is incredibly sexy and hangs off Ron like a limpet. Right?

I had been planning to prune my privet and make scones for the local operatic society’s bring and buy sale, but fluffyllama owled and asked if I could help her out of a Harry/Ron shaped hole…. I hope this is something like what you wanted!

So many thanks to magicofisis for the lightning fast beta!


Ron’s Legendary Charisma
~*~*~*~
I blame myself.

Ron knew nothing about the Muggle world, and would never have become addicted to Mars Bars if I hadn’t bought one. And I know about Ron and chocolate; I shouldn’t have gone away without stocking up on them.

Two months.

I was away for two months, leaving Ron and his chocolate cravings and his keen, problem solving brain alone together.

I should have realised he’d meet a Muggle in the chocolate aisle at Sainsbury’s.

I didn’t want to go away for two months. Not when we’d finally finished fighting and come home and got jobs and got a flat together.

I loved sharing a flat with Ron.

I could stare at him, whenever I liked, without anyone getting the wrong idea.

The wrong idea being that there was anything going on between us, of course, because I got so many wrong ideas when I watched him deep throating a Mars Bar.

But my beautiful boy was straight, and, although that is such a waste, I was okay with it.

And I could stare at him whenever I liked, without Ron getting the wrong idea, because, although he is beautiful and sexy and caring and funny and passionate and loyal and everything I want in a bloke, except for being gay, he is also oblivious to the fact.

I mean, with just the two of us in the flat, I have to stare at something, right? Ron even stares at me, sometimes. Which is why I resisted getting a telly and sitting and staring at that all evening.

Anyway.

Back to my abandoning Ron, Mars Bar-less, in London.

Actually, it’s sort of his fault, too.

He was working at the Ministry and couldn’t get away for two months and come with me; I had to go away for two months, because the Cannons were on a tour of the Far East.

And I’d only chosen the Cannons for Ron, so it really was his fault.

So, after eight lonely weeks of raw fish and noodles and no Ron to laugh with when anyone said Bangkok, I returned to our flat, tired and sick from the International Portkey from Japan and sooty from the Floo, to find no Ron waiting for me.

I showered and sat in the lounge, crossed ankles on the coffee table, while the action figure on a magic carpet I’d bought for Ron flew round my head, staring into the fireplace and waiting for him to come home.

Three hours later I was feeling rather sorry for myself and was conjuring and shooting down freckled canaries with red hair, when I heard the front door open.

Ron never used the front door. The flat was in a Muggle suburb and he Flooed everywhere. The lounge door opened and Ron yelped and closed it again.

“Just a mo’,” I heard him say as he opened it a crack and sidled through. “M’flat mate’s home and not decent.”

I stood and blinked at him.

“Harry,” he whispered, gesticulating wildly at my canaries. “The guys are Muggles. What are you doing?”

“Guys?” I echoed, Banishing the birds.

“Sorry,” he said, wincing. “I’ll explain later.”

He opened the door again and three blokes ambled in, carrying beer and towels.

Ron introduced them as Ivan, Nick and Jon and they all sat on the couch and opened a bottle. I watched them all drink for a couple of minutes.

“Harry’s been in the Far East,” Ron explained. “Bangkok.”

He met Ivan’s eyes and they sniggered and I ground my teeth.

I was just planning which Hex to use on Ivan when he put down his bottle. “I’ll go first,” he said, hauling himself to his feet and ruffling Ron’s hair as he clambered over the long legs sprawled in front of him, slinging his towel over his shoulder and leaving the room.

Ron hadn’t explained who ‘the guys’ were, or why they were in our flat, and I had the vaguely hysterical theory that they were galactic hitch hikers.

I glared at Nick’s towel, but it didn’t glare back.

“So?” I said, climbing over Ron’s legs and sitting in Ivan’s vacated seat.

“Missed you,” Ron said sincerely, nudging me with a friendly elbow. My heart swelled and I nudged back.

“So?” I repeated.

He handed me a new beer and we all drank.

“So, Harry,” Nick said. “You been backpacking before uni?”

Ron jabbed me with a less friendly elbow.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just a couple of months in the Far East.”

“Must have cost a bob or two to get out there,” Jon said.

“Travelled by magic carpet,” I said blandly.

They laughed and Ron choked on his beer.

So, we drank and Ivan came back into the room towelling his hair and Nick left and Ivan frowned at me, before ignoring Nick’s empty seat and perching on the arm of the couch, his thigh pressed against Ron’s arm.

I watched water drip out of his hair and land on Ron’s neck and I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Showering,” Ivan explained.

I raised my other eyebrow.

“Our place doesn’t have hot water,” Jon explained. “Crap landlord.”

“Right,” I said.

“So, Ron said we could use his… facilities,” Ivan said, running a fingertip down Ron’s neck to collect the drop of water, and I clenched my fists and thought he’d probably lathered up Ron’s soap and slid it between his arse cheeks, and I vowed to throw the soap away, once they’d gone.

“Right,” I said again. “And where did ‘the guys’ meet?”

“Ivan found him in the chocolate aisle at Sainsbury’s,” Jon explained.

“He had a basket full of Mars Bars,” Ivan said. “It was love at first sight.”

He met my eyes calmly and I have never wished so hard that I could go all Chosen One on someone.

“So, Ivan brought him and his chocolate home for a drink, and now he’s our wizard,” Jon said.

I choked on my beer.

“He’s… what?” I spluttered.

“A wizard,” Ivan said. “Nick’s a ranger, Jon’s a cleric and I’m a thief.”

“Are you?” I said, suddenly sure that he knew how I felt about Ron and that we was gonna try and steal him from me.

“D&D Soc, students’ union,” Jon explained, rolling his eyes. “Ron’s a real laugh, really takes his spellwork seriously – has great Charisma. Most people think playing a wizard gets boring, needing so many XP to go up a level, but you should see him play! When he cast Find Familiar and got a toad – I thought I’d die laughing.”

I looked at Ron, who shrugged sheepishly.

“You should come along some time,” Ivan said. “We can always use a man who’s good with a sword.”

He waggled his eyebrows and looked at my crotch and I glanced above the mantelpiece, where Gryffindor’s sword was concealed by a glamour, and my hands twitched.

“I have been praised for my swordsmanship,” I admitted. “I’ve been known to kill the basilisk, rescue the princess, fight the dark wizard.”

“D’you prefer a broadsword or a bastard sword?” Jon asked.

“He’s teasing us,” Ron said, giving me a pained look.

I laughed and Jon shrugged and left for his shower when a damp Nick returned.

There was no more sword innuendo and, after a couple more beers, Ron saw his three freshly showered ‘guys’ to the door.

“Oh, I missed you,” he said, bouncing back into the room and throwing himself at me.

I returned his hug and dug his flying action figure out from under the couch cushions and we watched it take off and circle the room.

“Honestly, Harry,” he said, leaning against me. “Telling the guys you’d travelled by magic carpet!”

“How about you telling ‘the guys’ you’re a wizard?” I asked, shoving him.

He sniggered.

“It’s addictive,” he admitted. “I can tell them all about the Goblin Wars and why their dragons aren’t anatomically correct and that the big dragon reserves are in Romania, not Iceland.”

“Does Hermione know you’re Muggle baiting?” I asked.

“I’m not!” he complained. “They just think I’m really into it.”

“You’re impossible,” I said.

“Hey, how many people think I’m the world’s greatest wizard?” he joked.

I so wanted to say ‘me’, but I managed to bite my tongue.

“Ivan seems very friendly,” I said.

“He’s a laugh.”

“Very… affectionate,” I suggested.

Ron frowned.

“He’s a mate,” he said.

I snorted.

“What?” Ron asked.

“Just be careful he doesn’t eat you after you’ve mated,” I muttered.

“Harry!” he gasped. “He’s just a friend.”

“Yeah, well, he was practically licking water off your neck…”

“He was not, you git,” Ron complained.

I realised I was sounding something like a jealous girlfriend, and tried to backtrack.

“I guess it’s not his fault,” I said. “What with your legendary Charisma.”

“It’s a character ability,” he said.

“I know,” I said. “I’m just teasing you.”

He got up and kicked my feet off the coffee table and went off to his room, muttering.

And I did feel like a jealous girlfriend, and Ron continued to visit the students’ union and smite orcs, or whatever, and Ivan continued to visit the flat and take showers and I continued to throw the soap away after every visit and Ron never noticed that his soap was ever lasting.

I was counting the days until the end of term, and Ivan’s return home to Canterbury, and smirked at him the whole time he was in the flat for his final, going home to mummy, shower.

Ron slapped him on the back as he left and Ivan gave me a calculating look and wrapped his arm round Ron’s shoulders in a quick hug and Ron genially hugged him back and steered him out the door.

I automatically went into the bathroom, to replace the contaminated soap, and found an envelope propped up, behind it, with Ron’s name scrawled on the front.

Much as I wished I could have thrown it away, well, it really wasn’t my place, was it?

So I slouched into the lounge and tossed the envelope into Ron’s lap and collapsed beside him on the couch.

Ron’s eyebrows went up. “What’s this?” he asked.

“It was behind the soap,” I said bleakly. “I can only assume it is his declaration of undying love.”

“Don’t be daft,” Ron said, slitting open the envelope. “It’s probably just thanks for all the showers.”

His eyes, skimmed the paper and grew wider and wider.

“What?” I asked.

“What’s the European Cup?” he asked.

“What?”

“The European Cup.”

“It’s a football thing,” I said. “Why?”

“He’s,” Ron frowned. “He’s in love with me and he’d rather see my face than Man United lifting the European Cup.”

He looked up at me.

“It’s… um… they just won it,” I said. “I assume he’s a fan, and that that’s a compliment.”

“Ah,” Ron said. “A compliment.”

“Look, Ron, I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’…”

He frowned at me. “Are you sure?”

I laughed. “Well, yes, okay, actually, I do want to. Seriously, the way he was always touching you.”

“I know,” he said.

“What?”

“I’m not a complete idiot,” he said. “And he was pretty obvious about it.”

“And you don’t mind?” I asked, my heart sinking at the thought of Ron enjoying Ivan’s clumsy flirting.

“Mind what?” he asked.

“A... bloke… fancying you.”

“It’s not that horrible,” he said dully. “You don’t have to go all weird about it.”

“I’m not weird,” I said. “I don’t mind that sort of thing, not at all. Just… he’s a bit smarmy.”

“Yeah, he is,” Ron agreed. “And a bit obvious about it, but even that wasn’t enough to make the bloke I care about jealous.”

“Even I’m jealous,” I said. “I’m sure the… what? What bloke?”

“Never mind… wait… what?”

“What?”

“You’re jealous?” Ron asked.

“Of the… time you spend with him… with them,” I said quickly.

“Oh.”

I looked at his drooping shoulders and I girded my Gryffindor loins.

“And of the way he touches you,” I muttered.

“Oh?” Ron said, looking perkier.

“And that you don’t mind him fancying you,” I said, moving closer.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He looked hopeful.

“You were trying to make a bloke jealous?” I asked carefully.

He nodded.

“I… I’d hope… is it me?”

Hermione would be proud of us, talking it through, and stuff, but he’d obviously had enough talking and he pounced.

I found myself pushed backwards along the couch, my feet still on the floor, as Ron stretched full length on top of me; his thigh wedged between both of mine, one hand in my hair and one under the small of my back, holding me against him as he kissed me.

Oh, he kissed me.

He devoured me.

“Very jealous,” I murmured into his mouth, wriggling under him until I got my legs up onto the couch. “Don’t let him touch you, anymore.”

“Not a chance,” he said, biting my bottom lip and then sucking it soothingly. “I don’t have to go and play wizards anymore, not when I can do this.”

I laughed as he wordlessly Banished our clothes.

“Those were my favourite jeans,” I complained with a squeak, as he settled lower and slid his cock against mine. “How d’you know how to do this, anyway?”

“I’m making it up as I go along,” he said, pinning me down by one hipbone with a large hand as he thrust against me. “Just seems like a good idea, right?”

“Works for me, yeah,” I admitted, throwing my head back as he kissed my neck. “If rubbing my cock with my hand feels good…”

His hand slid between us and wrapped round both erections.

“…and someone else rubbing my cock feels good…”

I reached down and cupped his arse, feeling the muscles working and flexing as he thrust into the circle of his fingers and drove against my cock on every stroke.

“…then someone else’s cock rubbing against my cock…”

“Someone else’s?” he growled against my neck.

“Yours,” I whimpered as he rocked onto one hip and concentrated on the hand running up and down our cocks.

I watched him - his eyes shut, his breath hissing through his teeth, cords standing out in his neck, muscles in his shoulder and arm flexing as he stroked – and I buried my face in his hair and thrust up into his hand and came over his fingers.

I gasped and tried to blink away the flashing spots before my eyes, but Ron hadn’t stopped stroking and he squeezed and grunted and my come spread up and down his cock and I whimpered as my sensitive flesh slipped between his fingers and he twisted and writhed on top of me as he jerked off.

Finally, he cried out and came over my stomach and his full weight settled on top of me as he gasped for breath.

“Fantastic,” he muttered. “Fuck, Harry.”

I shoved him off as I tried to catch my own breath and he lay beside me and I wriggled as close as possible and buried my face in his neck.

“Ron,” I said. “What are you gonna do about Ivan’s letter?”

“Nothing.”

“I reckon I know how he feels,” I said, nibbling on his collar bone. “You should write him a ‘Dear Ivan’ letter.”

“C’mere,” Ron said, wrapping his arms around me and pressing a kiss to my temple. “You don’t have to worry about him, Harry. It was just a note thanking me for all the showers.”

~*~*~*~
No mocking poor Ivan’s idea of a compliment – a young D&D player called Ivan once wrote me a similar letter…