shocfix (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} shocfix) wrote,@ 2005-01-29 01:00:00 |
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slut!Harry - H/R - NC-17
Title: slut!Harry
Author:shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Words: 4500
Written formagicofisis, for your birthday. Which is on July 7th. And I am on a self-imposed canon-fest for June and July – with maybe just a little light Ron/Hermione – so I can read Half-Blood Prince without expecting Ron to sink to his knees and take Harry in his mouth every five minutes!
But I love you too much to miss your birthday, so here you go, my darling – it really is all about teh Harry/Ron, and oh, if we could have just a kiss next week I will die happy!
Harry and Ron, that is, not you and me. Oh, what the hell - *snogs*
It was betaed by the incomparablerosina_alcona three months ago, and I am now thrilled and squeeing to be meeting her on the 15th. Except that I wrote this bit in April, so maybe I have already met her? Maybe she won the lottery and popped in to see me in London on her way to the Galapagos or wherever her next adventure took her. Maybe JKR read our Harry/Ron stuff and invited us both to Edinburgh?
Oh, and there is art by the incrediblenebulaean, which is not work-safe, but it is linked in the text, so you can read the story safely at work!
slut!Harry
****
Sixth year was so hard for Harry. Hermione and I tried to take care of him, but it was bookended by the deaths of Sirius and Hagrid and that was hard to get past.
He’d come back after Occlumency Snape absolutely wrung out; the extra DADA with Lupin was really grim, as they worked on the curses he’d need to go into battle against the Death Eaters.
Just everything about his year had been horrible; it made me feel guilty for thinking I had problems. My days were too full and I worked hard. Mainly at Quidditch, admittedly. Then Hermione and I had prefect duties and homework and we were in love. That was my main problem. I was in love with my best friend.
Oh. No.
Not with each other.
No. Hermione was dating Neville. They were so good for each other.
No. It was Harry. I was in love with Harry.
His problem was the pain he was going through as he trained to face pure evil in a fight to the death.
Mine was that when he came back to us, grey-faced and shaking with exhaustion, all I could do was say mean things about Snape and try to make him laugh, try to bring a spark of life back to those eyes, when all I wanted to do was to kneel before him and hold him tight and smooth his hair out of his eyes and touch his face and smother it with kisses.
Like I said, I did my best to take care of him. I always have, but that was the hardest year we’d had.
So when Harry came to stay with us in the summer before we went back for our final year, I almost dreaded it.
I hadn’t seen him in the weeks since Hagrid was killed when the Death Eaters attacked the school and I was expecting him to be in a worse state than ever.
But the Harry that arrived at the Burrow almost glowed with energy. If there had been a touch of “Why me?” about the Harry that had slogged his way through sixth year, this Harry had accepted his fate and decided to take charge of his future.
Though that wasn’t actually as positive as it sounds.
While stuck at the Dursleys’ he had decided on a three-pronged assault on seventh year – that didn’t even include NEWTs and school work.
One, the training to face You Know Who.
Two, everyone he loved was taken from him, so he wasn’t going to love anyone else.
Three, he was seventeen and probably wouldn’t see eighteen, and he deserved to have as much sex as possible this year.
I did try pointing out that two and three didn’t seem to go together, but he raised a rather cynical eyebrow and said “Stop being such a girl, Ron. I said sex, not love.”
Well, that put me in my place. Because I was seventeen and I wanted plenty of sex, too. With love. With Harry. But what did I know?
So we went back to school and he went to work.
Firstly, he worked hard in his special training; part two seemed to consist of avoiding me and Hermione. She had NEWTs in just eight months, plus she and Neville were Head Girl and Boy and he used that as an excuse; she was so busy.
I had been made Quidditch captain, but that didn’t give me time with Harry. After the Death Eater attack Harry had been removed from the team, as it was too dangerous for him to play, and Ginny was back as Seeker.
I had assumed there would be problems with part three. I looked round the Great Hall one evening and tried to think how I’d go about finding someone to have sex with. I mean, if he wasn’t sitting right next to me.
I wouldn’t have had the faintest idea where to start, and I always thought that Harry was as clueless as me about these things. But after dinner we went up to the dorm and I just flopped onto my bed and Harry started getting ready to go out.
“Harry?” I asked. “Where are you going?”
“Astronomy Tower,” he replied, peering into the mirror as he tried to tame his hair. “Date.”
“Date?” I echoed stupidly, sitting up. “With who? You’re seeing someone?”
“Sue… Something. Year below us; Hufflepuff.”
“Oh. Hufflepuff. When did you get to know her?”
“I didn’t,” he said, turning round from the mirror and looking perfectly edible in a dark green shirt. “She offered last year, so I asked if her offer was still open.”
“Offered what?” I asked.
“Sex,” he said simply. “Part three, remember?”
I boggled at him. “She offered? She offered sex?”
“Yes. It happens quite a lot.”
“Well, not to me, it doesn’t!” I snorted.
“Well, it doesn’t happen to me either,” he said. “It happens to the Boy Who Lived, but I’ve decided to take advantage of it. Why should he have all the fun?”
“Harry, you can’t,” I gasped.
“Why not? They want to shag the Boy Who Lived; I’m not promising anything more than that.”
“But, Harry, that’s not right. That’s not like you.”
“Well, maybe it is. Maybe if I had had the chance to live my own life, this is what I’d be like.”
“No, Harry…”
“Leave it, Ron,” he interrupted and, turning on his heel, left the room.
****
I waited up for him in the Common Room until nearly two o’clock. He finally climbed through the portrait hole looking like, well, looking like sex on legs.
His shirt was half unbuttoned, his hair was dishevelled, his lips were red, his eyes were heavily lidded, there was a visible love bite on his neck.
I would give my right arm to make him look like that, but I had no idea what to say.
It seemed he wasn’t pissed off with my girly attitude anymore, because he grinned at me and asked, “Have you waited up to hear all the details, Ron?”
“No,” I insisted. “I waited up because I was worried about you.”
He frowned. “I’m a big boy, Ron. I’m fine. I’m more than fine. Look, I know you worry about me, and I don’t want to upset you. I’m being careful, honestly.”
“Careful?” I asked, picturing the poor Hufflepuff being held at wand-point for an hour, until he could be sure she wasn’t a Polyjuiced Death Eater.
“No Gryffindors, and no one below sixth year,” he said earnestly and I nearly choked.
“Harry!” I moaned, at a complete loss as to how to deal with this. “And are you going to see Sue Something again?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “It was good. But I don’t want her getting the wrong idea. I have a date with that dark haired Ravenclaw in our year, um…”
“Diana,” I offered.
“Yeah, could be.”
“Harry…”
“No, Ron, please. I don’t want to fight with you. You’re all I’ve got. But I need this. I need this release. Everything else I have is so painful.”
“But it doesn’t have to be like this” I insisted. “You could find someone you care for, Harry.” You could find me.
“No,” he said coldly. “What d’you want me to do, Ron? Sit on a couch with Ginny in the evenings? Go round Hogsmeade holding her hand? Right up until the Death Eaters arrive and kill her in front of me?”
“No,” I choked. I want you to see me. I would take that risk. But I couldn’t say it.
“I can’t love someone, Ron,” he said quietly. “I can’t fight him if I’m worried about who’s fighting beside me.”
“That’s where we’re different then,” I said. “Because I’d take that risk and I’d fight with them and for them.”
“Well, it’s my problem, Ron, and I have to deal with it, OK? Are we OK?” He looked so earnest, so vulnerable.
“’Course we’re OK, Harry. It’d take more than you shagging half of Hufflepuff to get rid of me.”
I clapped a hand on his shoulder and we walked up to the dorm in silence, where I undressed and climbed into bed and he discarded his shirt on the way to the showers, and I could see red nail marks on his back.
And that is how it continued. I almost looked back on sixth year fondly.
Yes, Harry had been closed off and exhausted, but he’d come to me for comfort.
After Sue Something and Diana Darkhair we had Myra Muggleborn-in-Ravenclaw, Sarah Whispers-filthy-things-in-Spanish and Suzanne You-wouldn’t-believe-the-thing-she-did-w
By Easter I knew of fourteen notches on Harry’s bedpost.
I wouldn’t even say it was doing him much good, and it really wasn’t doing me any good at all.
He came back to the empty dorm one evening in the holidays after a date and he looked as grey and shattered as he ever had the year before.
And I had had enough.
He slumped back onto his bed and threw his glasses onto his bedside table. I climbed up after him and sat cross-legged beside him until he wriggled up to give me more room.
I waited for him to talk. Eventually he peeled one eye open and looked at me. “What?” he asked.
“Um,” I didn’t really know what to say. “I don’t think it’s really helping you anymore, Harry.”
He grunted.
“Harry?” I prompted.
“No. You’re right. It’s not helping. It’s horrible.”
I lay down and propped myself up on an elbow, looking down at him. “Harry,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. “Please, you have to stop doing this to yourself.”
He reached over and covered my hand with his own, running his thumb across my knuckles.
“D’you want to talk, or anything?” I offered.
“There’s not really anything to talk about, Ron,” he said heavily. “We didn’t even have proper sex.”
“Who were you with?” I asked, not really wanting details.
“Justin,” he replied casually and I almost swallowed my tongue.
“Justin?” I repeated, rather stupidly. “But he’s a bloke.”
Harry snorted. “Really?” he asked.
“I, uh, just didn’t realise that you… that you were, um, interested in blokes,” I said.
Harry shrugged. “Yeah, sometimes. Some blokes. I’ve only messed around; Justin only went down on me.”
This was harder for me to hear than anything I’d been prepared for and I pulled my hand away from his without thinking. It had been bad enough that I could never give Harry what he needed, but this made it somehow personal; that he just didn’t want me, and that really hurt.
His hand clutched at his own arm and I felt him tense up beside me. “It’s OK, Ron,” he snapped. “You’re in no danger. I’m doing this to protect you and Hermione, remember?”
“No. No, no, no,” I babbled, reaching for his hand again. “I didn’t mean it like that!”
“Ron, you recoiled when I said it,” he said, glaring at me and pulling his hand from mine.
“I did not!” I said indignantly.
“Then what?” he demanded. “Why else would it bother you if I’d been with Justin?”
What could I say? He’d admitted he liked blokes; if I didn’t do the same thing he’s think I was disgusted with him, and I couldn’t have that. He had to know that I cared; that I’d take care of him.
“It’s not that, Harry, honestly,” I said quietly. “It’s just that if you fancy blokes, but not me, well, you wouldn’t want me touching you.”
His mouth dropped open and he tried several times to form words but nothing came out. I watched him nervously.
“What?” he finally shouted.
“I didn’t want to make you feel worse,” I said.
“What?”
“Harry, stop shouting at me. I said I’m sorry.” I tried to stand and this time he grabbed my hand and pulled me down to sit beside him.
“No one ever touched me except to hurt me until I met you and your family,” he said very quietly, not looking at me, and my heart ached for him. “You were my first friend,” he continued, “and when you touched me, or your mum held me, or the twins hugged me after Quidditch, that was the first time anyone had ever cared about me.”
“Harry,” I started, but he shook his head.
“No, look. You taught me how to be a wizard, all the important stuff that I never knew, about how to live in the Wizarding World. But you also taught me to touch someone. All those girls, or Justin – I still feel awkward touching people – letting them get that close to me.”
“So I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” I interrupted. “Because you don’t want me like that.”
“Don’t want you?” he whispered. “The whole point of my fucking plan was because I want you.”
I swear I felt my heart stop beating for a few seconds.
“Part one,” he said, breathing heavily and clutching my hand hard. “Kill Voldemort so you’ll be OK. Part two: don’t let myself be too close to you, to keep you safe. Part three: if I can’t have you hold me, then I have to learn to accept it from other people.” His voice cracked. “I want to touch you the whole time, but I can’t keep asking you to hold me, to look after me. You don’t want me that way.”
“Oh, Harry,” I breathed and I tugged on his hand and pulled him towards me. I wrapped one arm around his thin, tense shoulders and brought my other up to touch his face. I pulled him closer and held him tight and rested my cheek on his hair and he buried his face in my neck. I felt him trembling and I tried to pick my words carefully.
“Not want you?” I murmured into his hair. “Fuck, I want you. It’s been killing me to watch you with other people. People who don’t know you like I do, who can’t take care of you like I do.” His hands came up to grasp tightly at a handful of my t-shirt as he huddled against me. “Hey, who’s your Prince? Who flew to the Dursleys’ to rescue you from the top of the tallest tower?” I joked, and he laughed slightly hysterically, but began to relax in my arms. “I rescued you, but I never did get my kiss.”
He pulled back to look into my face. “We were twelve,” he pointed out, seriously.
“I still loved you, Harry,” I said. “Just in a different way.”
His eyes opened wide, looking enormous and vulnerable without his glasses. “What?” he whispered.
“I love you,” I said simply.
“No one…” he swallowed.
“What?” I prompted.
“No one has ever said that to me,” he said, a look of amazement on his face.
I shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I do,” I said.
“I… I…” he stuttered and I started to hush him but the words tumbled from his lips. “Oh, I… I love you. So, so much. I never… I can’t… I’ve missed you.” There was half a sob in his voice as he reached up to touch my face, and then he shook his head. “But I can’t hurt you. I can’t put you in danger, Ron, not you.”
“I told you, Harry,” I said. “I’d take that risk; there us no way that Voldemort could hurt me more than seeing you hurting.”
He laughed aloud at finally hearing me say You Know Who’s name and I couldn’t wait any longer and I ducked my head and saw his eyelids flutter closed as I covered his lips with mine.
And it was incredible. Harry had always told me that his first kiss with Cho was wet, but that was because she was crying on him. But this. This was wet because Harry groaned and pushed me back onto the bed and straddled my lap and teased my mouth open with his tongue and I sucked hard on it as it thrust into my mouth.
It didn’t occur to me until afterwards that this was my first kiss and that Harry had done everything. All I could think about was Harry, and that my hands were in his hair, holding him in place as we kissed and kissed and kissed and fuck, it was hot. And his hands ran up inside my t-shirt and he placed one palm over my heart, which was beating so hard I thought it would leap out of my chest.
Then Harry tore his mouth away from mine and sat back, staring down at me, wild eyed, with his chest heaving. “Ron, I can’t… we can’t just…”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, terrified he’d change his mind, when his weight resting on my erection was driving me insane. “No, no, no, don’t stop,” I shamelessly begged, breathing heavily and tugging on his hair to pull him down again, utterly certain that I needed his kisses more than this ridiculously overrated breathing.
Harry laughed. “No, no stopping. But we can’t just go from nothing to fucking.”
I groaned. “Yes. Yes we can!”
Harry laughed again, which was wonderful, as I liked nothing more than making him laugh. No. That was before. Now I liked nothing more than making him gasp and grind his erection down against mine when I sucked on his tongue. And I had great hopes that I was about to find more and more things that I liked nothing more than.
“Harry,” I moaned. “You go from nothing to fucking Hufflepuffs. To fucking fucking Hufflepuffs. But we’ve never been nothing. This is everything. We can go from everything to fucking. Really.” I used my most earnest expression on him.
His worried face cleared. “Really? You really want this?”
“Harry, more than breathing, more than the Cannons winning the league. Please, don’t stop.” I gave up tugging on his hair and ran my hands down his back until they cupped his arse and I thrust awkwardly up against him and was rewarded with a wonderful groan as he bent down to kiss me again.
“We’ll do whatever you want, Ron,” he said between a series of kisses that he dotted along my jaw and down my neck. “Just tell me what you want, or when you want to stop, OK?”
“Harry,” I groaned, tipping my head back to let him bite my neck. “I am not fragile. This is two years’ wanking come true! I want everything.”
He laughed delightedly and looked up to meet my eyes. “Everything?” he asked in a slightly shaky voice. “I’ve never, um. The thing with Justin was the first time I tried, um. Everything?”
“Everything,” I confirmed, delighted that there was something we would discover together, and I reached up and cupped his face as we kissed once more.
“Fuck, yes,” he muttered, frantically unbuttoning my shirt and I laughed at his eagerness to reach my skin. He pushed it down my arms, without unbuttoning the cuffs, and trapping my hands, but this seemed to please him and he ducked his head and sucked hard at my collar-bone – hard enough to leave a mark, but I didn’t mind, I hoped he covered me in love bites.
Then he gave me a calculated look and wriggled off my lap to briskly strip off his clothes and undo and remove my trousers and boxers. Seeing him standing before me, erection bobbing at my eye-level, I shivered. It was really happening. Wow. I started to struggle out of my tangled shirt, but Harry stopped me, making me move back to the head of the bed, where he lifted my arms above my head and hooked the shirt over the carvings in the headboard. Oh, wow.
“Harry?” I squeaked, eyes wide at the sight and feel of a very aroused Harry Potter climbing into my lap.
He paused and met my eyes and I nodded frantically and he wrapped a hand around my cock and stroked it, gently.
“Harry!” I breathed, trying to thrust into his hand, but my thighs were pinned beneath his and my hands were tied above my head and I couldn’t get enough leverage.
So I sat and watched him playing with my cock, a small frown between his brows as he examined it. Finally he swiped a thumb over the head, spreading a drop of pre-come and making me hiss with pleasure.
Then his eyes met mine again as he put the thumb in his mouth and sucked.
I groaned at the sight and tried to lean closer to that beautiful, red mouth, but he stopped me with a hand over my racing heart.
“Everything?” he whispered.
“You,” I croaked and he smiled, reaching into the drawer of his bedside table, taking out a small bottle and blushing slightly.
I didn’t really want to know why he had lube to hand, but I relaxed and grinned as he broke the seal on it and settled back in my lap.
He squirted some into his hand and rubbed it between finger and thumb, testing the feel of it. Then he looked down, his eyes darting between his cock and mine, his hips moving in small circles so our cocks brushed together and sent shocks through my body.
I could hardly breath as the tension mounted, waiting for Harry to decide what to do to me. My throat felt too dry to speak, but I wanted to tell him that he could do absolutely anything, that the only thing that sounded as good as him buried inside me was me buried inside him.
Evidently, he made up his mind, because his lube-slicked hand fell into our laps and grasped my cock, giving it several firm strokes to coat it, and my eyes crossed and I swear I felt steam came out my ears. I was going to fuck him. I was going to be inside him. OK, he wasn’t going to exactly be the vulnerable one here, as I was still tied to the bed, but I was going to be inside him.
Once my cock was slicked, he poured more lube into his hand and leant forward. My eyes flew wide open as his hand dropped behind him and he bit his lip as he prepared himself. I moaned his name, pitifully, but I was beyond caring. Leaning closer, he caught my lips in a hard kiss and I whimpered as he fingered himself. A naked and aroused Harry Potter was straddling my lap and sticking his fingers up his arse. Merlin, I love Thursdays.
But I didn’t think I could last much longer. “Harry, please,” I begged. “Inside you.”
His smile lit up the room, aroused me and scared me to death. We were really going to do this. Me and Harry; together.
Kneeling up, he placed one hand on my shoulder to balance himself, while the other reached down behind him to grasp and steady my cock and position it at his entrance.
I nodded frantically, watching his face as he lowered himself over me, his eyelids fluttering as he tried to relax and accept the intrusion.
And then, Merlin, I was inside him, and it was so tight and scorching hot and he was shaking and I croaked, “Hands, please, Harry, I want to hold you.”
He was biting his lip and breathing quickly and I was scared I was hurting him, but he reached for his wand and severed the sleeves of my shirt. My tingling arms fell to my sides and I pushed the ragged ends up my arms to free my hands, wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his hair as he clung to me. “Harry, are you OK?” I whispered, stroking his back and he nodded against my neck.
I released my hold slightly, and tipped his face up with my hand to look at him. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes wide and shining, but he didn’t look like he was in pain, as much as shock. “Harry?”
He took a deep breath and leant back in my arms, thigh muscles trembling. “It’s fine Ron. It’s good. It’s like, like you’re… everywhere.” And he buried both hands in my hair and leant in for a kiss. And the leaning part meant he moved up my cock and the kiss made him whimper into my mouth and I gasped, “Fuck, Harry,” and slid my hands down to his arse and held him as he rocked backwards and forwards, fucking himself on me.
Until I couldn’t stand it anymore and held him tight and thrust up into him, harder and deeper, shaking as he groaned and slid a hand between our bodies to stroke his cock, then arching up hard into him and moaning as I looked down and watched him do it.
Until I couldn’t hold out any more and I gasped his name and thrust one more time as I came inside him, and, as I collapsed back against the headboard, the bastard continued riding me, drawing aftershocks from my aching body, until I pushed him out of my lap and collapsed, curled up in a ball, protecting myself from any more sneak attacks.
And he crouched, grinning at me and still stroking his cock, until I managed to peer up at him. “Fuck, Harry, that was brilliant,” I croaked, my eyes straying back down his body.
He saw me looking and moved closer, stroking himself idly and he must have seen me lick my lips, because he suddenly stilled and whispered, “Ron?”
I looked up and met his eyes, which burnt into mine and I nodded, frantically, licking my lips again as my eyes flicked back to his cock.
“Brilliant,” he whispered, coming closer and rubbing the head of his cock against my bottom lip. I flicked my tongue out to taste him and he took the opportunity to slide between my lips. I tried to scramble up, thinking he needed to be the one lying down for this, but he stilled me with a hand on my shoulder and then surged forward, taking his weight on hands and knees as he arched over my face and started fucking my mouth.
I tipped my head back, angling to take as much of his cock as I could, sucking hard on each thrust, marvelling at the taste and at the sounds he was making. All too soon his hip pressed hard against my shoulder and stilled as his cock jerked in my throat and flooded my mouth with salty-sweet come.
As I swallowed, he collapsed clumsily, half on top of me and I listened to his laboured breathing gradually slow.
Propping himself up on my chest on one elbow, he looked down at me and smiled nervously. “Um,” he said. “We’re still…?”
I wrapped my arms around whatever bits of him I could reach, one hand in his hair and the other hooked behind a knee. “Everything, Harry. We’re still everything.”
Title: slut!Harry
Author:
shocfixPairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Words: 4500
Written for
magicofisis, for your birthday. Which is on July 7th. And I am on a self-imposed canon-fest for June and July – with maybe just a little light Ron/Hermione – so I can read Half-Blood Prince without expecting Ron to sink to his knees and take Harry in his mouth every five minutes!But I love you too much to miss your birthday, so here you go, my darling – it really is all about teh Harry/Ron, and oh, if we could have just a kiss next week I will die happy!
Harry and Ron, that is, not you and me. Oh, what the hell - *snogs*
It was betaed by the incomparable
rosina_alcona three months ago, and I am now thrilled and squeeing to be meeting her on the 15th. Except that I wrote this bit in April, so maybe I have already met her? Maybe she won the lottery and popped in to see me in London on her way to the Galapagos or wherever her next adventure took her. Maybe JKR read our Harry/Ron stuff and invited us both to Edinburgh?Oh, and there is art by the incredible
nebulaean, which is not work-safe, but it is linked in the text, so you can read the story safely at work!slut!Harry
****
Sixth year was so hard for Harry. Hermione and I tried to take care of him, but it was bookended by the deaths of Sirius and Hagrid and that was hard to get past.
He’d come back after Occlumency Snape absolutely wrung out; the extra DADA with Lupin was really grim, as they worked on the curses he’d need to go into battle against the Death Eaters.
Just everything about his year had been horrible; it made me feel guilty for thinking I had problems. My days were too full and I worked hard. Mainly at Quidditch, admittedly. Then Hermione and I had prefect duties and homework and we were in love. That was my main problem. I was in love with my best friend.
Oh. No.
Not with each other.
No. Hermione was dating Neville. They were so good for each other.
No. It was Harry. I was in love with Harry.
His problem was the pain he was going through as he trained to face pure evil in a fight to the death.
Mine was that when he came back to us, grey-faced and shaking with exhaustion, all I could do was say mean things about Snape and try to make him laugh, try to bring a spark of life back to those eyes, when all I wanted to do was to kneel before him and hold him tight and smooth his hair out of his eyes and touch his face and smother it with kisses.
Like I said, I did my best to take care of him. I always have, but that was the hardest year we’d had.
So when Harry came to stay with us in the summer before we went back for our final year, I almost dreaded it.
I hadn’t seen him in the weeks since Hagrid was killed when the Death Eaters attacked the school and I was expecting him to be in a worse state than ever.
But the Harry that arrived at the Burrow almost glowed with energy. If there had been a touch of “Why me?” about the Harry that had slogged his way through sixth year, this Harry had accepted his fate and decided to take charge of his future.
Though that wasn’t actually as positive as it sounds.
While stuck at the Dursleys’ he had decided on a three-pronged assault on seventh year – that didn’t even include NEWTs and school work.
One, the training to face You Know Who.
Two, everyone he loved was taken from him, so he wasn’t going to love anyone else.
Three, he was seventeen and probably wouldn’t see eighteen, and he deserved to have as much sex as possible this year.
I did try pointing out that two and three didn’t seem to go together, but he raised a rather cynical eyebrow and said “Stop being such a girl, Ron. I said sex, not love.”
Well, that put me in my place. Because I was seventeen and I wanted plenty of sex, too. With love. With Harry. But what did I know?
So we went back to school and he went to work.
Firstly, he worked hard in his special training; part two seemed to consist of avoiding me and Hermione. She had NEWTs in just eight months, plus she and Neville were Head Girl and Boy and he used that as an excuse; she was so busy.
I had been made Quidditch captain, but that didn’t give me time with Harry. After the Death Eater attack Harry had been removed from the team, as it was too dangerous for him to play, and Ginny was back as Seeker.
I had assumed there would be problems with part three. I looked round the Great Hall one evening and tried to think how I’d go about finding someone to have sex with. I mean, if he wasn’t sitting right next to me.
I wouldn’t have had the faintest idea where to start, and I always thought that Harry was as clueless as me about these things. But after dinner we went up to the dorm and I just flopped onto my bed and Harry started getting ready to go out.
“Harry?” I asked. “Where are you going?”
“Astronomy Tower,” he replied, peering into the mirror as he tried to tame his hair. “Date.”
“Date?” I echoed stupidly, sitting up. “With who? You’re seeing someone?”
“Sue… Something. Year below us; Hufflepuff.”
“Oh. Hufflepuff. When did you get to know her?”
“I didn’t,” he said, turning round from the mirror and looking perfectly edible in a dark green shirt. “She offered last year, so I asked if her offer was still open.”
“Offered what?” I asked.
“Sex,” he said simply. “Part three, remember?”
I boggled at him. “She offered? She offered sex?”
“Yes. It happens quite a lot.”
“Well, not to me, it doesn’t!” I snorted.
“Well, it doesn’t happen to me either,” he said. “It happens to the Boy Who Lived, but I’ve decided to take advantage of it. Why should he have all the fun?”
“Harry, you can’t,” I gasped.
“Why not? They want to shag the Boy Who Lived; I’m not promising anything more than that.”
“But, Harry, that’s not right. That’s not like you.”
“Well, maybe it is. Maybe if I had had the chance to live my own life, this is what I’d be like.”
“No, Harry…”
“Leave it, Ron,” he interrupted and, turning on his heel, left the room.
****
I waited up for him in the Common Room until nearly two o’clock. He finally climbed through the portrait hole looking like, well, looking like sex on legs.
His shirt was half unbuttoned, his hair was dishevelled, his lips were red, his eyes were heavily lidded, there was a visible love bite on his neck.
I would give my right arm to make him look like that, but I had no idea what to say.
It seemed he wasn’t pissed off with my girly attitude anymore, because he grinned at me and asked, “Have you waited up to hear all the details, Ron?”
“No,” I insisted. “I waited up because I was worried about you.”
He frowned. “I’m a big boy, Ron. I’m fine. I’m more than fine. Look, I know you worry about me, and I don’t want to upset you. I’m being careful, honestly.”
“Careful?” I asked, picturing the poor Hufflepuff being held at wand-point for an hour, until he could be sure she wasn’t a Polyjuiced Death Eater.
“No Gryffindors, and no one below sixth year,” he said earnestly and I nearly choked.
“Harry!” I moaned, at a complete loss as to how to deal with this. “And are you going to see Sue Something again?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “It was good. But I don’t want her getting the wrong idea. I have a date with that dark haired Ravenclaw in our year, um…”
“Diana,” I offered.
“Yeah, could be.”
“Harry…”
“No, Ron, please. I don’t want to fight with you. You’re all I’ve got. But I need this. I need this release. Everything else I have is so painful.”
“But it doesn’t have to be like this” I insisted. “You could find someone you care for, Harry.” You could find me.
“No,” he said coldly. “What d’you want me to do, Ron? Sit on a couch with Ginny in the evenings? Go round Hogsmeade holding her hand? Right up until the Death Eaters arrive and kill her in front of me?”
“No,” I choked. I want you to see me. I would take that risk. But I couldn’t say it.
“I can’t love someone, Ron,” he said quietly. “I can’t fight him if I’m worried about who’s fighting beside me.”
“That’s where we’re different then,” I said. “Because I’d take that risk and I’d fight with them and for them.”
“Well, it’s my problem, Ron, and I have to deal with it, OK? Are we OK?” He looked so earnest, so vulnerable.
“’Course we’re OK, Harry. It’d take more than you shagging half of Hufflepuff to get rid of me.”
I clapped a hand on his shoulder and we walked up to the dorm in silence, where I undressed and climbed into bed and he discarded his shirt on the way to the showers, and I could see red nail marks on his back.
And that is how it continued. I almost looked back on sixth year fondly.
Yes, Harry had been closed off and exhausted, but he’d come to me for comfort.
After Sue Something and Diana Darkhair we had Myra Muggleborn-in-Ravenclaw, Sarah Whispers-filthy-things-in-Spanish and Suzanne You-wouldn’t-believe-the-thing-she-did-w
By Easter I knew of fourteen notches on Harry’s bedpost.
I wouldn’t even say it was doing him much good, and it really wasn’t doing me any good at all.
He came back to the empty dorm one evening in the holidays after a date and he looked as grey and shattered as he ever had the year before.
And I had had enough.
He slumped back onto his bed and threw his glasses onto his bedside table. I climbed up after him and sat cross-legged beside him until he wriggled up to give me more room.
I waited for him to talk. Eventually he peeled one eye open and looked at me. “What?” he asked.
“Um,” I didn’t really know what to say. “I don’t think it’s really helping you anymore, Harry.”
He grunted.
“Harry?” I prompted.
“No. You’re right. It’s not helping. It’s horrible.”
I lay down and propped myself up on an elbow, looking down at him. “Harry,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. “Please, you have to stop doing this to yourself.”
He reached over and covered my hand with his own, running his thumb across my knuckles.
“D’you want to talk, or anything?” I offered.
“There’s not really anything to talk about, Ron,” he said heavily. “We didn’t even have proper sex.”
“Who were you with?” I asked, not really wanting details.
“Justin,” he replied casually and I almost swallowed my tongue.
“Justin?” I repeated, rather stupidly. “But he’s a bloke.”
Harry snorted. “Really?” he asked.
“I, uh, just didn’t realise that you… that you were, um, interested in blokes,” I said.
Harry shrugged. “Yeah, sometimes. Some blokes. I’ve only messed around; Justin only went down on me.”
This was harder for me to hear than anything I’d been prepared for and I pulled my hand away from his without thinking. It had been bad enough that I could never give Harry what he needed, but this made it somehow personal; that he just didn’t want me, and that really hurt.
His hand clutched at his own arm and I felt him tense up beside me. “It’s OK, Ron,” he snapped. “You’re in no danger. I’m doing this to protect you and Hermione, remember?”
“No. No, no, no,” I babbled, reaching for his hand again. “I didn’t mean it like that!”
“Ron, you recoiled when I said it,” he said, glaring at me and pulling his hand from mine.
“I did not!” I said indignantly.
“Then what?” he demanded. “Why else would it bother you if I’d been with Justin?”
What could I say? He’d admitted he liked blokes; if I didn’t do the same thing he’s think I was disgusted with him, and I couldn’t have that. He had to know that I cared; that I’d take care of him.
“It’s not that, Harry, honestly,” I said quietly. “It’s just that if you fancy blokes, but not me, well, you wouldn’t want me touching you.”
His mouth dropped open and he tried several times to form words but nothing came out. I watched him nervously.
“What?” he finally shouted.
“I didn’t want to make you feel worse,” I said.
“What?”
“Harry, stop shouting at me. I said I’m sorry.” I tried to stand and this time he grabbed my hand and pulled me down to sit beside him.
“No one ever touched me except to hurt me until I met you and your family,” he said very quietly, not looking at me, and my heart ached for him. “You were my first friend,” he continued, “and when you touched me, or your mum held me, or the twins hugged me after Quidditch, that was the first time anyone had ever cared about me.”
“Harry,” I started, but he shook his head.
“No, look. You taught me how to be a wizard, all the important stuff that I never knew, about how to live in the Wizarding World. But you also taught me to touch someone. All those girls, or Justin – I still feel awkward touching people – letting them get that close to me.”
“So I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” I interrupted. “Because you don’t want me like that.”
“Don’t want you?” he whispered. “The whole point of my fucking plan was because I want you.”
I swear I felt my heart stop beating for a few seconds.
“Part one,” he said, breathing heavily and clutching my hand hard. “Kill Voldemort so you’ll be OK. Part two: don’t let myself be too close to you, to keep you safe. Part three: if I can’t have you hold me, then I have to learn to accept it from other people.” His voice cracked. “I want to touch you the whole time, but I can’t keep asking you to hold me, to look after me. You don’t want me that way.”
“Oh, Harry,” I breathed and I tugged on his hand and pulled him towards me. I wrapped one arm around his thin, tense shoulders and brought my other up to touch his face. I pulled him closer and held him tight and rested my cheek on his hair and he buried his face in my neck. I felt him trembling and I tried to pick my words carefully.
“Not want you?” I murmured into his hair. “Fuck, I want you. It’s been killing me to watch you with other people. People who don’t know you like I do, who can’t take care of you like I do.” His hands came up to grasp tightly at a handful of my t-shirt as he huddled against me. “Hey, who’s your Prince? Who flew to the Dursleys’ to rescue you from the top of the tallest tower?” I joked, and he laughed slightly hysterically, but began to relax in my arms. “I rescued you, but I never did get my kiss.”
He pulled back to look into my face. “We were twelve,” he pointed out, seriously.
“I still loved you, Harry,” I said. “Just in a different way.”
His eyes opened wide, looking enormous and vulnerable without his glasses. “What?” he whispered.
“I love you,” I said simply.
“No one…” he swallowed.
“What?” I prompted.
“No one has ever said that to me,” he said, a look of amazement on his face.
I shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I do,” I said.
“I… I…” he stuttered and I started to hush him but the words tumbled from his lips. “Oh, I… I love you. So, so much. I never… I can’t… I’ve missed you.” There was half a sob in his voice as he reached up to touch my face, and then he shook his head. “But I can’t hurt you. I can’t put you in danger, Ron, not you.”
“I told you, Harry,” I said. “I’d take that risk; there us no way that Voldemort could hurt me more than seeing you hurting.”
He laughed aloud at finally hearing me say You Know Who’s name and I couldn’t wait any longer and I ducked my head and saw his eyelids flutter closed as I covered his lips with mine.
And it was incredible. Harry had always told me that his first kiss with Cho was wet, but that was because she was crying on him. But this. This was wet because Harry groaned and pushed me back onto the bed and straddled my lap and teased my mouth open with his tongue and I sucked hard on it as it thrust into my mouth.
It didn’t occur to me until afterwards that this was my first kiss and that Harry had done everything. All I could think about was Harry, and that my hands were in his hair, holding him in place as we kissed and kissed and kissed and fuck, it was hot. And his hands ran up inside my t-shirt and he placed one palm over my heart, which was beating so hard I thought it would leap out of my chest.
Then Harry tore his mouth away from mine and sat back, staring down at me, wild eyed, with his chest heaving. “Ron, I can’t… we can’t just…”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, terrified he’d change his mind, when his weight resting on my erection was driving me insane. “No, no, no, don’t stop,” I shamelessly begged, breathing heavily and tugging on his hair to pull him down again, utterly certain that I needed his kisses more than this ridiculously overrated breathing.
Harry laughed. “No, no stopping. But we can’t just go from nothing to fucking.”
I groaned. “Yes. Yes we can!”
Harry laughed again, which was wonderful, as I liked nothing more than making him laugh. No. That was before. Now I liked nothing more than making him gasp and grind his erection down against mine when I sucked on his tongue. And I had great hopes that I was about to find more and more things that I liked nothing more than.
“Harry,” I moaned. “You go from nothing to fucking Hufflepuffs. To fucking fucking Hufflepuffs. But we’ve never been nothing. This is everything. We can go from everything to fucking. Really.” I used my most earnest expression on him.
His worried face cleared. “Really? You really want this?”
“Harry, more than breathing, more than the Cannons winning the league. Please, don’t stop.” I gave up tugging on his hair and ran my hands down his back until they cupped his arse and I thrust awkwardly up against him and was rewarded with a wonderful groan as he bent down to kiss me again.
“We’ll do whatever you want, Ron,” he said between a series of kisses that he dotted along my jaw and down my neck. “Just tell me what you want, or when you want to stop, OK?”
“Harry,” I groaned, tipping my head back to let him bite my neck. “I am not fragile. This is two years’ wanking come true! I want everything.”
He laughed delightedly and looked up to meet my eyes. “Everything?” he asked in a slightly shaky voice. “I’ve never, um. The thing with Justin was the first time I tried, um. Everything?”
“Everything,” I confirmed, delighted that there was something we would discover together, and I reached up and cupped his face as we kissed once more.
“Fuck, yes,” he muttered, frantically unbuttoning my shirt and I laughed at his eagerness to reach my skin. He pushed it down my arms, without unbuttoning the cuffs, and trapping my hands, but this seemed to please him and he ducked his head and sucked hard at my collar-bone – hard enough to leave a mark, but I didn’t mind, I hoped he covered me in love bites.
Then he gave me a calculated look and wriggled off my lap to briskly strip off his clothes and undo and remove my trousers and boxers. Seeing him standing before me, erection bobbing at my eye-level, I shivered. It was really happening. Wow. I started to struggle out of my tangled shirt, but Harry stopped me, making me move back to the head of the bed, where he lifted my arms above my head and hooked the shirt over the carvings in the headboard. Oh, wow.
“Harry?” I squeaked, eyes wide at the sight and feel of a very aroused Harry Potter climbing into my lap.
He paused and met my eyes and I nodded frantically and he wrapped a hand around my cock and stroked it, gently.
“Harry!” I breathed, trying to thrust into his hand, but my thighs were pinned beneath his and my hands were tied above my head and I couldn’t get enough leverage.
So I sat and watched him playing with my cock, a small frown between his brows as he examined it. Finally he swiped a thumb over the head, spreading a drop of pre-come and making me hiss with pleasure.
Then his eyes met mine again as he put the thumb in his mouth and sucked.
I groaned at the sight and tried to lean closer to that beautiful, red mouth, but he stopped me with a hand over my racing heart.
“Everything?” he whispered.
“You,” I croaked and he smiled, reaching into the drawer of his bedside table, taking out a small bottle and blushing slightly.
I didn’t really want to know why he had lube to hand, but I relaxed and grinned as he broke the seal on it and settled back in my lap.
He squirted some into his hand and rubbed it between finger and thumb, testing the feel of it. Then he looked down, his eyes darting between his cock and mine, his hips moving in small circles so our cocks brushed together and sent shocks through my body.
I could hardly breath as the tension mounted, waiting for Harry to decide what to do to me. My throat felt too dry to speak, but I wanted to tell him that he could do absolutely anything, that the only thing that sounded as good as him buried inside me was me buried inside him.
Evidently, he made up his mind, because his lube-slicked hand fell into our laps and grasped my cock, giving it several firm strokes to coat it, and my eyes crossed and I swear I felt steam came out my ears. I was going to fuck him. I was going to be inside him. OK, he wasn’t going to exactly be the vulnerable one here, as I was still tied to the bed, but I was going to be inside him.
Once my cock was slicked, he poured more lube into his hand and leant forward. My eyes flew wide open as his hand dropped behind him and he bit his lip as he prepared himself. I moaned his name, pitifully, but I was beyond caring. Leaning closer, he caught my lips in a hard kiss and I whimpered as he fingered himself. A naked and aroused Harry Potter was straddling my lap and sticking his fingers up his arse. Merlin, I love Thursdays.
But I didn’t think I could last much longer. “Harry, please,” I begged. “Inside you.”
His smile lit up the room, aroused me and scared me to death. We were really going to do this. Me and Harry; together.
Kneeling up, he placed one hand on my shoulder to balance himself, while the other reached down behind him to grasp and steady my cock and position it at his entrance.
I nodded frantically, watching his face as he lowered himself over me, his eyelids fluttering as he tried to relax and accept the intrusion.
And then, Merlin, I was inside him, and it was so tight and scorching hot and he was shaking and I croaked, “Hands, please, Harry, I want to hold you.”
He was biting his lip and breathing quickly and I was scared I was hurting him, but he reached for his wand and severed the sleeves of my shirt. My tingling arms fell to my sides and I pushed the ragged ends up my arms to free my hands, wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his hair as he clung to me. “Harry, are you OK?” I whispered, stroking his back and he nodded against my neck.
I released my hold slightly, and tipped his face up with my hand to look at him. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes wide and shining, but he didn’t look like he was in pain, as much as shock. “Harry?”
He took a deep breath and leant back in my arms, thigh muscles trembling. “It’s fine Ron. It’s good. It’s like, like you’re… everywhere.” And he buried both hands in my hair and leant in for a kiss. And the leaning part meant he moved up my cock and the kiss made him whimper into my mouth and I gasped, “Fuck, Harry,” and slid my hands down to his arse and held him as he rocked backwards and forwards, fucking himself on me.
Until I couldn’t stand it anymore and held him tight and thrust up into him, harder and deeper, shaking as he groaned and slid a hand between our bodies to stroke his cock, then arching up hard into him and moaning as I looked down and watched him do it.
Until I couldn’t hold out any more and I gasped his name and thrust one more time as I came inside him, and, as I collapsed back against the headboard, the bastard continued riding me, drawing aftershocks from my aching body, until I pushed him out of my lap and collapsed, curled up in a ball, protecting myself from any more sneak attacks.
And he crouched, grinning at me and still stroking his cock, until I managed to peer up at him. “Fuck, Harry, that was brilliant,” I croaked, my eyes straying back down his body.
He saw me looking and moved closer, stroking himself idly and he must have seen me lick my lips, because he suddenly stilled and whispered, “Ron?”
I looked up and met his eyes, which burnt into mine and I nodded, frantically, licking my lips again as my eyes flicked back to his cock.
“Brilliant,” he whispered, coming closer and rubbing the head of his cock against my bottom lip. I flicked my tongue out to taste him and he took the opportunity to slide between my lips. I tried to scramble up, thinking he needed to be the one lying down for this, but he stilled me with a hand on my shoulder and then surged forward, taking his weight on hands and knees as he arched over my face and started fucking my mouth.
I tipped my head back, angling to take as much of his cock as I could, sucking hard on each thrust, marvelling at the taste and at the sounds he was making. All too soon his hip pressed hard against my shoulder and stilled as his cock jerked in my throat and flooded my mouth with salty-sweet come.
As I swallowed, he collapsed clumsily, half on top of me and I listened to his laboured breathing gradually slow.
Propping himself up on my chest on one elbow, he looked down at me and smiled nervously. “Um,” he said. “We’re still…?”
I wrapped my arms around whatever bits of him I could reach, one hand in his hair and the other hooked behind a knee. “Everything, Harry. We’re still everything.”