Telling Ron - HP/MM - R
Title: Telling Ron
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Minerva
Rating: R for language – i.e. there isn’t any extra H/M in here – it’s just Harry telling Ron!!

For abigail89, who grocks my new pairing.

It is a sequel to Feminist Issue, my seminal Harry/Minerva work!


Telling Ron
****
Harry returned to the common room to find Hermione and Ron in the best seats by the fire; nearly everybody else had gone to bed. Hermione was writing a very long letter; she had already filled half a roll of parchment, which was dangling from the edge of the table. Ron was lying on the hearthrug, trying to finish his Transfiguration homework.

“What kept you?” he asked, as Harry sank into the armchair next to Hermione's.

Harry didn't answer. He was in a state of shock. Half of him wanted to tell Ron and Hermione what had just happened, but the other half wanted to take the secret with him to the grave.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione asked, peering at him over the tip of her quill.

Harry gave a half-hearted shrug. In truth, he didn't know whether he was all right or not.

“What's up?” said Ron, hoisting himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of Harry. “What's happened?”

Harry didn't quite know how to set about telling them, and still wasn't sure whether he wanted to. Just as he had decided not to say anything, Hermione took matters out of his hands.

“You were gone an awfully long time,” she said in a businesslike way. “What did Professor McGonagall want?”

Utterly numb, Harry opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Ron sniggered, breaking off when Hermione caught his eye.

“So - er - what did she want?” he asked in a mock casual voice.

“She –“ Harry began, rather hoarsely; he cleared his throat and tried again.

“She - er –“

“Well?” asked Hermione briskly.

Harry looked desperately at Ron and gestured with his head towards the boys’ staircase. Ron raised his eyebrows and Harry gave him a pleading look.

“Oh, Hermione,” Ron complained, getting to his feet. “If Harry’s just been given a hard time about his homework from old McGonagall, does he really need it in stereo from her apprentice?”

Hermione gave him a filthy look, but returned to her letter and didn’t comment as the boys left the room and they climbed the spiral staircase in silence up to the seventh year boys’ dorm.

Harry wandered over to his bed, flung himself down and folded his arms behind his head.

Ron perched cross-legged on the end of Harry’s bed and looked at him.

After a few minutes of watching Harry stare at the ceiling, Ron spoke. “OK, what was so serious that I got myself in hot water with Hermione like that? She’ll be in a mood for days now.”

Harry finally looked at him, and then scrambled up to sit cross-legged opposite his friend.

“Well?” Ron prompted.

Harry swallowed. He wondered how on earth he could put this into words. “It seems there is another way to protect me, now that I will be of age, and my mother’s protection will wear off.”

Ron’s eyebrows flew up so fast that they disappeared under his fringe. “But that’s fantastic, Harry! Why wouldn’t you tell Hermione? Oh, Merlin, is it something dreadful? It is, isn’t it? What are they going to do to you?”

Harry looked rather shifty, but this was Ron, and they told each other everything. “My mother’s love protected me, yeah?”

“Yeah, and?”

“And it’s love. All you need is love!”

Ron raised a dubious eyebrow.

Harry waved it away. “Muggle song; never mind. Apparently that wasn’t the only kind of love that could protect me. Making love can protect me, too.”

Ron’s mouth fell open. Harry amused himself for a couple of minutes, watching his friend trying to speak.

“It’s ‘cos I now consider Hogwarts as my home. Making love to someone else who lives here? It’ll keep me safe for another year; until we leave.”

Ron was still doing a drowning goldfish impression.

“Ron? You OK?”

Ron made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Who?” he managed to growl. “Who are you going to make love to? Who is going to keep you safe? Oh, Merlin, it’s going to have to be Hermione, isn’t it? That’s why you couldn’t say anything in front of her. Oh, Harry. Oh, gods. Shit! Fuck! She’d do it, wouldn’t she? And I, well, I’m. Nothing. Never mind.”

Harry thought he’d better put his friend out of his misery. “No!” he shouted, to override Ron’s monologue. “Not Hermione. Don’t worry. I’d never, ever do that to you, Ron, you know that.”

Ron flushed Weasley red. “Me? I, um, I didn’t mean I’d…”

“Never mind,” Harry interrupted again. “It’s nothing to do with Hermione. I just had a problem explaining it to her. Why I’m protected. Why I’m safe.”

“Why you will be protected,” Ron pointed out, dubiously.

“Nope,” said Harry, cheerfully. “Already safe, mate.”

Ron boggled at him. “You just,” he made a vague, and rather alarming gesture, and Harry made a mental note to have a word with him if he ever got his act together with Hermione. “You just, had sex?” Ron whispered.

“Yup,” Harry said, fighting down a smirk.

“Just now?”

“Yup.”

“But, how did they find someone who’d do it?” Ron asked, looking Harry up and down.

“Hey!” said Harry, rather offended. “Is it really that grim a task?”

Ron laughed. “No, I just meant, well. How do you sit a girl down and ask her to give herself to the Boy Who Lived? It’s ridiculous!”

“Well, that’s not what happened, you git,” snorted Harry. “It had to be someone who lives here. Someone who really cares for me; loves me.”

Ron snorted again and Harry glared at him. “I don’t have to tell you, you know!” he snapped, making to get off the bed, but Ron caught hold of his arm and dragged him back, lying full length and pulling Harry down to lie beside him.

“I’ll behave, I promise,” he said solemnly. “Please, Harry.”

He lay back on the pillow and Harry propped himself up on an elbow to look down at him. “OK, but no sniggering or anything, OK?”

“Harry,” said Ron, one hand on his heart. “I’m wounded.”

“Yeah, right. Look, this is important to me. Not just the protection thingy. In fact, that turned out to be the least important thing. It was amazing. To be with someone who cared about me. Who wasn’t going to blab to the papers about screwing the Boy Who Lived! I almost couldn’t believe I’d ever find such a thing”

Ron nodded seriously. “I know, Harry. Me and Hermione worry about that, about you. We don’t trust anyone.”

Harry smiled down at him. “Well, you can stop worrying, you git. Maybe you should start worrying about each other, ‘cos I’ve found someone.”

“Hey, you promised not to push me on the Hermione thing.”

Harry grinned. “Fair enough, although now you can benefit from all my experience…”

Ron snorted. “Yeah, ‘cos once is sooo experienced.”

“Once?” said Harry, with a raised eyebrow.

“Twice?” Ron hazarded.

“Try thrice, plus all that foreplay,” Harry smirked.

Ron whistled. “Well, you still haven’t told me who, have you?”

Harry frowned at him. “You promised, Ron. No sniggering.”

Ron frowned back. “Harry, you’re worrying me. Merlin! You never said it was a girl – don’t tell me it was Malfoy!”

“What is wrong with you?” Harry demanded. “Did we just establish that it is someone I trust?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I panicked – ‘cos you won’t tell me her name!”

“OK. It was Professor McGonagall. Minerva.”

Ron whimpered. “Harry,” he breathed. “You’re not serious!”

“Absolutely.”

“But, but, she’s…”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“…older than you,” Ron finished weakly.

“Really?” Harry asked. “I’m not an idiot, Ron. I did know that. But think about this. Why don’t you make a move on Hermione?” Ron twitched. “Shush. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself. You don’t want to make a mistake. You don’t want to be judged. How about an experienced older woman to teach you what to do? One who knows what she is doing, and will be patient with you if you make mistakes?”

Ron looked rather panic stricken.

“Oh, stop it, Ron,” Harry snapped. “I’m not telling you to give up on Hermione. You’re doomed, accept it. I’m just telling you what I had.”

“But now what, Harry? You can’t,” Ron gestured vaguely again, “date your teacher.”

“Well, no,” Harry replied, glumly. “She made that clear. The protection is in place. I’m to be a good boy for another year. But I won’t always be her student.”

“That good?” Ron asked, in an awed voice.

Harry smirked.

“Damn.”