All-Seeing Eye - H/R - NC-17
Title: All-Seeing Eye
Author: shocolate
Pairing: Harry/Ron, mention of Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny and Ron/Lavender, just like in the books, because they're canon.
Words: 4012
Rating: NC-17

Written for the 2008 hprwfqf, where my claim was : For Harry, Ron is willing to try anything once.

Also, the fest was cleverly and subtly timed to end on March 1st so we can all wallow in the Ron-love.

Ron Weasley.

Look at him!

Isn't he gorgeous at 29?? Is he starting to fret about turning 30?

Oh, look, and Rose and Hugo have toddled in with burnt breakfast in bed!

And Hermione has Petrificus Totalised them and Wingardium Leviosaed them back to bed… what? No? What's the point of being a witch if you can't safely and humanely petrify your children while you lick icing off your husband?

Happy birthday, you beautiful, loyal, brave, lazy, beautiful man.


All-Seeing Eye
****
I spent the best part of a year in a tent because of a prophecy, so I'm not keen to do anything else as life changing because of a new one.

Well, no, I spent the best part of a year in a tent because I love Harry just that much.

But I'm still not impressed with prophecies.

Just when everything has been going so well – when me and Harry have just qualified and Hermione has calmed down about whatever she's doing at the Ministry and Ginny is on the first team and Mum doesn't know she's shagging her way through the league and the four of us are living happily ever after.

I was not happy for things to be stirred up.

Not by a prophesy.

Especially not by Lavender.

And you can imagine how much Hermione enjoyed having her life turned upside down by Lavender Brown, of all people.

But Lavender has gone into Divination in a big way since the war, and is widely acknowledged to be the Real Thing. This pisses Hermione off something rotten, and I shouldn't have laughed, but the combination of Hermione's indignation and Lavender's drapy scarves and jingly jewellery and eerie manner was just too funny.

Was too funny, until they were all turned on me.

Hermione knows that Lavender is the Real Thing, and shouldn't have said that the drapery and low lighting and smoke are just to cover up Lavender's scars.

It was all I could do to get her to come along, but Lavender had owled me and said it was important that she saw us both, and I still feel I owe Lavender something, for treating her so badly, so here we were.

Sitting on low poufs, blinking through clouds of incense, listening to Lavender's jewellery clattering.

"Thank you both for coming," she said in a low, breathy voice.

"Yeah," I said.

"I know that neither of you have the sensitivities for the Art," she murmured.

I elbowed Hermione and she grunted something – neither confirmation nor denial.

"But I Saw something in the Crystal that I think you need to know," Lavender continued. "Something that will affect your relationship."

"Lavender, you said it was important," Hermione said in a tight voice. "We can really manage our relationship without your help."

"But that's just it," Lavender said. "That's what I saw; you're not supposed to be together."

"What?" I said.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione gasped. "Are you really using your so called talent to steal my boyfriend?"

"No," Lavender said calmly. "I would never do anything like that; the Art cannot be compromised. I know that Ron chose you, at the time, but the fates have chosen someone else for him."

"Lavender," I said, feeling very uncomfortable. "You know it's… over… we, um… we're not…"

"Not with me," Lavender said, slightly less calmly. "I have Seen you, in Visions in the Crystal. Almost any time I try and do a reading for someone, it is interrupted by images of you."

"Doing what, exactly?" Hermione asked.

"Almost always having sex," Lavender admitted. "Sometimes the mists part and they have already finished, and are lying there, naked, touching and kissing each other. But usually I see them having sex."

Hermione glared at me and I shrugged.

"Not my fault," I mouthed at her.

"I don't care what you think you See," Hermione said firmly. "It isn't Ron, and I don't care which… slapper you see him with."

"Ron has a heart shaped birth mark at the base of his spine," Lavender said as Hermione started to struggle to her feet. "It's almost hidden between his cheeks."

Hermione froze and narrowed her eyes.

"She didn't find that out first hand, Hermione, I promise," I said quickly.

"I Saw it, Hermione," Lavender said, shrugging. "I didn't try to, but I See it all the time… flashing me as he… thrusts… as he clenches while his cock is sucked on… smiling at me, as his cheeks are parted and a never ending list of body parts and toys are… used on him… in him… I don't want to See it, anymore. It is blocking my Sight, wherever I look. I want you to do something about it."

"What are we supposed to do about it?" I asked. "I really don't want you watching me… thrusting, even if it's not real."

"But it is Real," Lavender insisted. "It is what has to happen; I've tried Stones and Cards and Entrails. It has to happen."

"Entrails?" I shuddered. "You see my arse in Entrails?"

"I see it everywhere," she cried.

"My arse is not your business," I said firmly.

"Wait a minute," Hermione said. "What do you mean 'in him'?"

"Never mind that," I said dismissively. "How can you make the Visions stop?"

"Fulfil your Destiny," she said solemnly.

"My arse doesn't have a Destiny," I scoffed.

"What do you mean 'in him'?" Hermione repeated.

"That's really not important," I said. "People do… all sorts of stuff, and I don't want to know which sexual practises Lavender has been studying."

"You see 'body parts' penetrating him?" she asked Lavender. "What body parts?"

"Some people use their fingers… back there, Hermione," I said. "But never mind about that; that isn't the problem, here. That was just… Lavender being tormented by a rogue image… we get rid of her Visions, we don't have any more arse issues."

"Fingers, tongue, erect male member," Lavender said, ignoring me completely.

There was a ringing silence and I have rarely been so aware of my arse, or my girlfriend's magical powers.

"Erect male member?" Hermione echoed. "You see Ron being… sodomised?"

"Wherever I look," Lavender said wearily. "It's not a pretty sight."

"Hey," I protested and Hermione glared at me.

"So," she said slowly. "You are asking me to break up with my boyfriend so he can… sleep with men?"

"Not men," Lavender said. "I'm not just Seeing that he's… that way. I See who he is supposed to be with. I doubt you would break up with him just because I am plagued with repeated visions of Ron being buggered by random men."

"I know him a lot better than you do, Lavender," Hermione said, her jaw set. "And I assure you that Ron would never… bottom for anyone."

I blinked at her even knowing the word; why did Hermione know the word?

"And I assure you he would," Lavender insisted. "Enthusiastically."

"Ron," Hermione prompted.

"What?" I asked carefully.

"Tell her!"

"I'm not having this conversation," I complained.

"Tell your ex-girlfriend that you would never do that!"

"Never say never, Hermione," I said pitifully.

"Ron?" she breathed. "You'd let some huge, hairy man penetrate you with… fingers and tongue and erect male member, would you?"

"I didn't even know tongues were possible," I protested, shivering at the thought. "How am I supposed to have firm opinions on stuff I've never even heard of?"

"Ron?"

"And it's not as if I See him with… Hagrid," Lavender protested.

I winced.

"The 'who' is not the issue," Hermione said firmly.

"It's Harry."

The silence that followed was the loudest I have ever heard.

The blood pounding in my ears threatened to drown out their conversation, but not the image of Harry in my head.

"Don't be absurd," Hermione gasped. "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"It's not like you to disapprove of people because of their sexuality," Lavender snapped. "I was expecting you to found the… Association for Ronald's Sexual Emancipation on the spot."

I snorted and Hermione glared at me.

"She totally planned that in advance," I pointed out. "No way that was spontaneous."

Lavender rolled her eyes and Hermione huffed, loudly.

"The issue is not that Lavender makes up spontaneous anal acronyms," Hermione protested, "or that I'm homophobic – which I completely am not, by the way, Lavender Brown. The issue is that she thinks that you and Harry would behave like that, when you are closer than brothers."

"It's not a behaviour," Lavender insisted. "It's who they are supposed to be. I don't See them messing around in the dorms, at school. I See them together. Living together, loving together, growing old together."

"Oh," Hermione breathed, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

"I'm not making trouble," Lavender said seriously. "But they shouldn't fight their Fate, like this."

Hermione looked up at me, her eyes huge and tear filled.

"Ron?" she asked. "Do you… is there anything…?"

"We've never," I said. "I swear."

"But you would."

"Don't be ridiculous," I spluttered. "Not just because Lavender says I should."

"What if Harry wanted you to?"

"Harry doesn't want me to," I scoffed. "Do you know how many women he's slept with?"

"Yes," Hermione said sadly. "One. And I know why it was a disaster."

"What?" I said. "Don't be ridiculous. He's always…" I made a vague, 'spending the night with whichever girl he's pulled, but I'm not gonna say this in front of Lavender' gesture. I don't like it when he goes home with random women, but it's not really my business, is it.

"Do you know how many men he's slept with?" Hermione asked me.

"Absolutely," I said swiftly. "Zero. None."

"No," Hermione said.

"Yes," I insisted. "What are you on about?"

"Well, it's something more than zero," Hermione said. "It's somewhere between zero and however many times you think he has picked up a girl, but he's really sleeping on my couch."

I gaped at her, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"I'd… know," I said. "He'd…"

"Not here," she said, shaking her head sharply and gesturing at Lavender.

"Anything you say will go no further, I assure you," Lavender said. "I have…"

"Done enough," Hermione interrupted.

She struggled out of her pouf and glared at it, which I thought was unfair, before nodding at Lavender, gesturing to me to follow her, and stalking out of the room, brushing the beaded curtain aside with a loud clatter.

"I, um," I said, getting to my feet. "You?"

"I'll see you soon, Ron," my last ex-girlfriend said, kissing my cheek.

"Ah, well, you'd know best," I said vaguely, following my next ex-girlfriend out into the street.

Hermione was looking mutinous and flustered and her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and I loved chests.

“I love chests,” I said. “Why would you think I’d give up chests for… hairy chests?”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“That’s all I am, to you, is it?” she demanded.

“No,” I protested, waving at her boobs, all framed by her arms and pushed together and up. “You distracted me.”

She huffed.

“Ron,” she said. “Lavender is the last person I’d take relationship advice from, but…”

“She must have her whatsits crossed,” I interrupted. “The Beyond must have picked up Harry sleeping on your couch and my arse just got in the way, somehow.”

“That’s how it works, is it?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I dunno,” I said. “I never had the aptitude, did I? And you’ve got the wrong end of the stick about Harry. He wouldn’t sleep with a bloke and he definitely wouldn’t tell you about it, afterwards.”

“He doesn’t tell me what he’s just done,” she said. “And he hasn’t always come straight from another man’s bed, but I know who he’s sleeping around to take his mind off.”

“I know Ginny broke his heart,” I said.

She snorted, loudly.

“He’s slept with one woman and I know why it was a disaster,” she reminded me.

"Because he's queer?"

"Ultimately."

"Ultimately?" I echoed. "Being queer… is his final goal?"

"No," she huffed. "Being homosexual was the ultimate reason he couldn't perform when he slept with Ginny."

"He's queer."

"Yes."

"And that's why you believe Lavender?" I asked. "You're gonna hand me over to him because he… sleeps around and hasn't slept with me, yet? Because we always take care of Harry. Because he's miserable and needs his mind taken off of some bloke and I'm his consolation prize. Is that what you think of me?"

She looked like I'd slapped her.

"Apologise," she said tightly.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"He's in love with you," she said quietly. "I believe Lavender, because I know that Harry is in love with you, and is absolutely miserable."

I made a strange gurgling noise and was suddenly very aware of my knees.

Usually they hold me up pretty effortlessly, drunkenness not withstanding, and I have never had to make such an effort to lock them and remain standing.

"Me?" I gurgled.

She nodded.

"Miserable?" I whispered.

She shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry," she said. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

I brushed that away.

"I'm making Harry miserable?" I said.

I thought I'd spent ten years pretty much devoted to minimising Harry's misery.

"Oh, it's not your fault," Hermione said swiftly. "He's just… stuck."

"Stuck?" I echoed, my brain still full of body parts up arses.

"You were the first person he ever loved," she said. "He imprinted on you like a baby duckling, and now he can't get past that. He's so apologetic about it…"

"I'm that horrible a prospect?" I interrupted.

"He's so apologetic that he's in love with my boyfriend," she said.

"Ah," I said. "Sorry."

"What are you going to do?" she asked gently.

"Me?" I asked. "What are you going to do?"

"Me?"

"Are you… breaking up with me?"

"I've waited so long to see what would happen if you found out," she said. "You've always put Harry first, and… well, I never expected Lavender to be the one to tell you, but…" She sighed heavily and stepped closer, wrapping her arms round my neck and hiding her face against my neck. "I think it's for the best," she said quietly. "You're going to go home to him, aren't you?"

"I… yes," I said, resting my face on her hair and spitting out a chunk. "I think I have to."

"Tell him I said it's OK," she said.

I squeezed her hard and we stepped apart and prepared ourselves for our new future.

"Good luck," she said.

"You… um," I said.

She smiled sadly and Disapparated, leaving me to go home and face Harry.

Harry.

My best mate.

My Harry, who I would do anything for.

Ah.

Well.

I Apparated home, without having the slightest, faintest glimmer of an idea what I was gonna say, to find Harry making dinner.

OK, to find Harry standing at the breakfast bar, eating cold Baked Beans out of a tin.

"Hey," he said, toasting me with a spoonful of beans.

He didn't look like he was in love with me, except that, well, according to Hermione, this is what an in love with me Harry looked like, and he did look like he usually looked like.

He opened a draw and held out a spoon and I stepped closer, took it and dug into his tin.

"You could heat them," I suggested, as usual.

"Prefer them cold," he said, shrugging and sloshing the beans around in their sauce.

I watched as two beans slid down the side of the tin, clinging together like they were inseparable, like they did everything together, and I thought about me and Harry.

Ten years.

We'd done everything together for ten years, and maybe I didn't like him going home with random women for some bigger, higher, feelingser reason than because we'd done everything together for ten years.

I looked at my spoon, and remembered Hermione accusing me of having the emotional depth of a teaspoon.

Well, I was pretty sure I was brimming over, now.

Harry dug his spoon back into the tin and scooped up the best mate beans and ate them.

I squeaked.

"Whok?" he asked, through a mouthful of the end of a beautiful friendship.

"Did I ever tell you I'd… do anything for you?" I asked.

"Um," he said, swallowing. "Well. Not in so many. Why, what have you done?"

"Nothing, yet," I said.

"OK," he said.

"Look," I said. "Look, I… come into the lounge."

He put down his bean and trailed after me and I slumped in an armchair.

"I broke up with Hermione," I said casually.

"WHAT?" he shouted. "Why would you do that? She adores you. Are you insane?"

"It was a… mutual thing," I said defensively. "We were both… and… trapped by poufs… decided it was for the best."

"Poofs?" he echoed weakly.

"No," I said, "not…" I made a limp wrested gesture and his eyebrows shot up, under his fringe.

"Fuck," I muttered. "No, look. We went to see Lavender and she sits her victims on low poufs, and we were struggling to get up."

"Trapped by poufs," he murmured.

I nodded eagerly.

"So, why would that make you break up with Hermione?" he demanded.

I leant forwards, rested my elbows on my knees and ran both hands roughly through my hair.

"D'you trust Lavender?" I asked.

"Um, yeah," he said warily. "With Divination stuff; not buying jewellery."

"So," I said. "If Lavender's All Seeing Eye saw Something that Has To Be…"

"What did she See?" he prompted.

"My arse," I said bluntly.

"Your… arse…" he echoed. "Is some sort of… All Seeing, Non-Blinking Eye…"

I frowned. "No," I said. "Not that my… fuck, that's a revolting image."

"Not my fault," Harry snorted, sitting opposite me. "I was minding my business and my beans; you marched in and told me you broke up with Hermione because Lavender is after your arse. Fuck, Ron, I can't go through the Lavender thing again. Anything but that."

"Not Lavender," I said bravely.

"You said…"

"Lavender Sees my arse," I interrupted. "I broke up with Hermione because she Sees that someone else is after it."

"Who?" he asked.

"You," I said.

He blinked and laughed unconvincingly.

"She Saw…" he broke off and licked his lips nervously and my eyes followed his tongue.

"Yeah," I breathed, wondering how abruptly I could mention tongues.

"Your arse," he said, as I said, "Your tongue."

So, pretty abruptly, judging by the look on his face.

"Lavender Sees me rimming you?" he gasped.

"Dunno," I said.

"Ron," he whined. "You said…"

"I dunno what that means," I said, shrugging helplessly.

"It means my tongue up your arse," he croaked, flushing a dull red.

"Right," I said. "Good. Well, yes, she Sees that, then. Also fingers and cock. And toys. Not the least embarrassing conversation I've ever had, though worse than Hermione trying to make me discuss contraception methods, but actually not quite as mortifying as this one, what with the need to keep talking because you're sitting there looking disgusted, rather than the rather keen that Hermione had promised me and…"

He swallowed my increasingly hysterical babbling along with my tongue.

It wasn't a perfect kiss, by any standards. He was kneeling awkwardly at my feet and I was still panicking and my lips took far too long to relax against his. But Harry has always been patient with me and he grabbed a double handful of my shirt and waited and murmured encouragingly and kissed until I kissed him back.

He finally pulled back half an inch, his breath still puffing against my lips, his eyes wide and slightly insane.

"So," I whispered. "She was right."

"Lavender?" he whispered back.

"Her too," I agreed, "but Hermione. She said you really do…"

"Yeah," he breathed. "But you…"

"Soon as she told me," I admitted. "It was obvious. And it's OK; Hermione told me to tell you it's OK."

"OK," he echoed, his hands finally relaxing and smoothing my shirt across my chest.

"Hmmm," I hummed.

"OK," he repeated, his fingers unbuttoning and sliding across my skin. "Ron?"

"Yeah," I said. "Harry."

"So many," he murmured against my lips, sliding my shirt over my shoulders and down my arms, his fingertips following my scars, before ripping off his own t-shirt and kissing me desperately.

"What?" I asked between kisses, my hands coming up and cupping his face, my thumbs on his cheekbones, my fingers sliding into his hair.

"Years," he moaned, his hand slipping between my legs and squeezing. "Fantasies. Dreams."

"We'll do them all," I promised, opening my legs wider. "'Cept the ones about my sister or Voldemort."

"What?" he choked, wide eyed.

"You didn't always dream about me," I said.

"Git," he muttered. "Didn't dream of doing this with either of them."

And suddenly our jeans and boxers were vanished into nonbeing and my cock was in Harry's mouth, and I willingly gave him the benefit of the doubt of him not having dreamt of sucking off my sister or Voldemort, and he was moaning and tugging on my balls to just the perfect side of painful. He kept glancing up at me and his eyes were wild and it was such a simple way to make him happy, and why had I never thought of it, before?

Naming no names, but no one had ever looked this honoured to be able to suck my cock. If everything else was half as good as this, then…

I slid down in the armchair, letting my arse clear the edge of the cushion and his fingers automatically left my balls and slid between my cheeks, drawing hypnotic circles.

It was everything I'd never quite dared imagine and I groaned and hooked one knee over the arm of the armchair, opening myself up to him.

He looked up at me, my cock falling from between wet, red lips and I said, "um," as sexily as I could.

Harry. Growled.

And was suddenly everywhere.

One hand stroking my cock, one teasing my arse, his face buried between my legs, inhaling deeply before mouthing at my balls.

He moaned and vibrations shivered through me and I tried so hard to watch him but my head fell back as his tongue slid lower, my eyes rolling back in my head as his tongue replaced his fingers at my entrance, licking and probing and tasting me.

Why was it… how could it be so erotic?

My best mate's tongue pushed inside me as he tugged hard on my cock and I came with a scream, come splashing over my belly. He milked the last drops from me, lapping slowly between my cheeks at the sparking, sensitive skin, before crawling up my body, dropping kisses between the droplets on my chest.

"Dear God," I croaked, letting my raised leg fall as he covered my body with his and reached for a kiss.

"OK?" he whispered, his cheeks flushing.

"Dear God," I repeated. "Harry."

He laughed and stole another kiss, rubbing his cock against my leg.

"C'n I?" he begged. "Please?"

"Go for it," I said, letting myself go limp beneath him.

He rolled his eyes and settled between my thighs, his balls covering mine, his erection pressed against my twitching cock. I watched in awe as he drove against me, the cords in his neck standing out as he threw back his head, the muscles in his shoulders and chest and stomach straining as he strained for his climax.

"Ron," he breathed as he came, his head drooping against my neck, his come spurting between us.

I reached for him and he curled up in my lap, both of us ignoring our mingled come. My arms wrapping around him, I marvelled at what we'd done.

At the sight of Harry writhing on top of me; at the unlikelihood of his tongue probing my arse, just because Lavender recommended it.

The mere words did not do it justice.

I rested my cheek on his hair and laughed quietly.

"What?" he murmured.

"Just thinking of Lavender Seeing all this," I said.

"Not sure I like the idea of Lavender Seeing my tongue up your arse in her Crystal Ball," he said, stretching like a cat and brushing against several parts of my body that perked up with renewed interest.

"Not just the Crystal," I said, putting my hand under his chin to tip his face up for a kiss. "She Sees your tongue up my arse in Entrails, too."