Piano - H/R - R
Title: Piano
Author: shocolate
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 1000
Rating: R

For daisy_roots - yeah, Harry/Ron, sorry – how many of my flist would read Snarry?


Piano
****
I suppose there could have been a worse moment to fall in love with Harry. I’d have got myself into so much trouble, at school; at almost any point on our Quest would have made things really, really awkward; I could have been standing beside him, as he married my sister.

So, being in a nice, tidy front room, in a Muggle house didn’t sound too dangerous. Admittedly, we were waiting, downstairs, while my girlfriend was upstairs, lifting the Memory Charms on her sleeping parents, and I would be in a fair bit of danger, when I told her.

Because I’d have to tell her.

That I’d been standing in front of the fireplace, looking at photographs of various small Hermiones, hair bushier than ever in the humidity of various foreign locations, thinking no more than how cute she was, when I winced at a discordant plunking sound.

Hermione’s parents have a piano, in their front room, ‘though she says no one plays; she’d had lessons, which she’d hated, because she’d been no good at it, when she was little, and had been allowed to give it up when the keys would mysteriously stick together.

Stubborn, spontaneous magic, of course, my stubborn girl.

So, I turned ‘round, mid wince, to see Harry sitting at the piano, in his smart visiting Muggles jacket, a look of determination on his face, his hands picking out something indescribable at the keyboard.

I had had absolutely no idea that Harry could play the piano.

And I was right.

He frowned with concentration as he ‘played’, and I looked at his hands, as they moved slowly, and they were only Harry’s hands, but I’ve always loved it when Harry really focuses on something, and Harry was so focused on getting them to do something delicate and creative and beautiful and I wanted to kneel beside him and suck on his fingers.

I was so blindsided by the thought – the vivid image in my head – that I couldn’t move. I stood and stared at his hands, and his fingers moved carefully and deliberately, and I couldn’t hear the dreadful music he was making, over the sound of the blood pounding in my ears.

I wanted those hands on me, not some stupid piano, that didn’t know him like I did; I wanted to raise his hand to my lips and stare into his eyes as I slowly took two fingers in my mouth, watching him gasp, hearing him moan as he pressed down on my tongue, knowing that we were both thinking of where else he could slide those fingers.

I’d shared no more than a handful of kisses with Hermione, that we both knew were feeling more and more platonic, and I was worried that I’d never dare go any further, because we’d left it too long, worried that I’d never have another red hot erotic thought to wank to.

I needn’t have worried, because my feet took me across the room, to Harry’s side, and he looked up at me, a delighted smile on his face as his hands hovered over the keys, and I licked my lips, wanting to… devour him.

“My music teacher at primary school taught me this,” he said happily. “I almost completely can’t remember how it goes.”

I knelt down, breathing rapidly.

The voice of reason tried to stop me - a small voice, in the back of my head, that sounded far too much like Hermione, saying ‘that’s why they’re called fantasies, Ron; you’re not supposed to act on them’, but a voice that sounded like Harry said ‘why would a voice in Ron’s head use a semi-colon, Hermione? That’s not the way to get through to him. Maybe I want him to suck my fingers’.

I reached out and took hold of his hand, gazing at his slender fingers, his blunt cut fingernails.

“Was it really that bad?” he asked, thinking I was just pulling it away from the keyboard, not realizing I wanted to keep it. Keep it safe. Safe and sound, inside me. My mouth, my heart.

My arse.

“I’ve been through far more with you than this piano has,” I found myself saying, which, while I’m pretty sure it’s a unique pick-up line, was not obviously a pick-up line.

“But Mary Had a Little Lamb is the final straw?” he said, with a huge grin.

“It… doesn’t deserve you,” I said faintly, pulling his hand up to my lips and slowly and hotly and wetly and yes, Hermione, I know that those are adverbs, sucking them into my mouth, up to the second knuckle.

His free hand crashed onto my rival, with a deep and mangled boom.

His mouth dropped open.

“Ron?” he breathed.

I gazed up at him, bobbing my head and sucking harder and he watched his fingers fuck my mouth and his beautiful eyes were wide, behind his glasses, and his beautiful lips were parted and he launched himself off the piano stool, tackling me to the ground.

For a frozen second I thought he was gonna beat the shit out of me, for thinking he could be queer, even though I hadn’t, I’d just thought I’d follow him, for the rest of my life, waiting for a chance to suck his fingers.

And that maybe I should have just held onto that thought, because I was gonna follow him, for the rest of my life, anyway, and no one would ever know about the finger thing.

But then his hands pinned my wrists to the floor and he was staring down at me and he said my name and his mouth closed on mine and I moaned as I opened up to him.

My mouth opened and I tasted him.

My legs opened and he settled between them, an answering hardness pressed against my aching cock.

My heart opened and fuck, just how girly was it, but he’d always been in there, hadn’t he.

The door opened and Hermione screamed.