Title: The Secret Weapon
Author: Llama (fluffy_llama2000@yahoo.co.uk)
Summary: Somebody finds a potion with a label saying 'Play Harder, For Longer'
and thinks it will improve their Quidditch skills.
Warnings: Shameless exhibitionism and the most cliched potion possible *g*.
Pairing: Harry/Ron, Viktor Krum/Draco Malfoy (no, really)
Rating: R
Beta: Thanks to Caroline yet again for stepping in quickly with the red pen of
doom.
A/N: Written for the Quidditch Slash Fest
-----------
"Harry! Wait up!"
Harry turned to see Ron running up. He was flushed and excited, and still only
half dressed after Quidditch practice.
"Shouldn't you finish getting changed? We're going to be late for Potions at
this rate."
Ron waved his concerns away. "This," he said solemnly, "is much bigger than
Potions."
Harry pulled him through the portrait hole and led the way up to the dorm,
blessedly empty at this time of day. He rummaged around for Ron's robes as Ron
began to pull off his Quidditch gear. At a few weeks short of eighteen years
old, Ron was developing muscles that made Harry jealous and stare in despair in
the mirror at his own still too skinny body. He'd started getting out of the
changing rooms as quickly as he could to spare himself the sight of the broad
expanse of freckled back that far too often featured in his dreams these days,
even if it was by no means the only body that had done that.
He turned away as Ron stripped down to his underwear, leaving the clean robes on
the bed to busy himself with putting his broom away. "So, what's the big news?"
"Right, yes. Well, just after you'd left the changing rooms I was rinsing out my
t-shirt – I think I need a stronger anti-perspirant charm you know, think
Hermione knows any good ones?" At Harry's impatient gesture he quickly jumped
back on track. "Anyway, as I was doing it I heard the Slytherins talking about
the Quidditch final. I heard Malfoy say that no-one would guess their secret
weapon, and it shouldn't be seen outside the Slytherin changing rooms until the
match was underway!"
"Secret weapon?" Harry couldn't think what it might be. "Did they say anything
else?"
"Only that it would give them a massive advantage to winning the house cup at
the final game." Ron pulled the robes over his head and grabbed his Potions
books. "Come on, let's see if we can get anything else out of Malfoy in class.
It would be worth a detention or two for a few clues."
- - - - - -
Malfoy was certainly looking pleased with himself about something, Harry
decided. He even received several sarcastic comments from Professor Snape for
whispering to Crabbe and Goyle, which was almost unheard of. He greeted each
admonition to silence with a cheerful 'Sorry Professor Snape," rather than his
usual sulky complaints. Something was definitely going on.
Ron kept giving Harry meaningful looks each time Malfoy behaved strangely, until
Hermione glared at them, not daring to speak as Professor Snape was hovering
closely around them waiting for an excuse to deduct points.
"Later." Ron mouthed to Hermione, as Harry nodded slightly towards the black
clad figure stalking around the room.
- - - - - -
"Secret weapon?" Hermione was incredulous. "Oh come on, you don't really believe
that, do you?"
"Wha' d'you me'n?" Ron asked with his mouth full. His appetite seemed to grow
with every term, and this one was no exception. Harry watched in barely
disguised admiration as he put away as much as himself and Hermione put
together. It was a good thing he hadn't developed that kind of an appetite or he
might be six feet tall too by now and out of his Seeker position like a shot.
"Obviously they were expecting you to overhear the conversation so that you'd
be all worked up trying to find out their secret instead of concentrating on
your game. Or even so they could catch you out of bounds and have you banned
from the match."
Hermione had never quite mastered the art of being right without sounding
patronising, thought Harry. Or at least *probably* right. Ron looked a little
disgruntled.
"I doubt if they could have known anyone would overhear, Hermione." Harry
couldn't stand to see Ron disappointed. Even if Hermione was right, and let's
face it, she usually was, it wouldn't do any harm to support Ron and it would be
fun to investigate it. Maybe Hermione wouldn't want to come along either if she
thought it was a waste of time. "We could take a look in the changing rooms
tonight?" he added in a whisper, and Ron's face brightened.
"Yeah." Ron breathed, leaning over the table conspiratorially. "They said it
would be kept there until the match. And if it is a trap," he looked pointedly
at Hermione, who just shrugged, "then it won't do them any good if we're under
the invisibility cloak, will it?"
"Well if you want to waste your time, far be for me to stop you." Hermione
tossed her hair over her shoulder as she stood. "I *was* hoping we could do our
Astronomy homework together, but I'm sure Seamus will be glad of some help
instead." There was a hopeful tinge to her voice, but her face fell as Ron
grinned excitedly.
"We're on then Harry!"
- - - - - -
The problem with getting older, Harry decided as he pretended to revise for a
Divination test that evening, was that it was becoming increasingly difficult to
fit more than one of the three friends under the invisibility cloak. Actually it
wasn't too difficult for his smaller frame to fit under there with Hermione, but
he reluctantly admitted it was far less interesting.
Finding it interesting being in close proximity to Ron had ranked as one of his
most shocking discoveries about himself. Parents murdered by Voldemort – well he
wasn't the only one, was he? Defeating Voldemort when barely a few months old –
dumb luck really, anyone could have done that in the same circumstances.
Becoming the youngest Gryffindor, or any house for that matter, Seeker in a
century – remarkable but not earth shattering since it didn't really mean much
to him at the time except a welcome alternative to the expulsion he'd expected.
But finding himself out one night under the cloak with his two closest friends
and being uncomfortably aware of the slide of Ron's smooth flat chest against
him instead of hoping it was one of Hermione's rapidly developing squishy
bits…this was taking time to come to terms with.
He'd covered for the past two years. Everyone who knew him even slightly knew he
chafed under the pressures of unwelcome fame, and those who knew him well were
even more aware of the responsibilities he had on his shoulders. When he'd
announced he was staying out of the dating frenzy that had overtaken most of the
school since the start of the sixth year he'd been met with disappointment,
understanding and support in varying degrees.
Ron though – Ron had surprised him by swearing off women till he finished school
as well, saying it was the least he could do to show he respected Harry's
decision. Harry was aware he could have tried harder to talk Ron out of the
grand gesture, but part of him was glad he wouldn't have to hear Ron sighing
over some girl in their dorm, or listen to his trials and tribulations with them
as they both had to for Dean, Seamus and Neville. Hermione had been snappish
with them both for weeks. Since Ron paled every time Harry suggested he tell
Hermione that he didn't have that sort of interest in her, Harry was pretty
certain following his example had just been Ron's way of putting Hermione off
for the foreseeable future.
That didn't mean Hermione was going to give up, evidently. He could see her
watching Ron out of the corner of her eye as she studied with Seamus. She was
clearly enjoying his company – most people did enjoy spending time with Seamus –
but she was just as clearly worrying away at Ron's lack of attention. She bit
her lip as Ron called Harry over to head up to their room, and turned her back
on them both.
- - - - - -
Harry folded his arms firmly. "Take them off, Ron."
"No, Harry, please mate, you can't make me do this?"
"Off. Now."
Ron unlaced his shoes with a moan and kicked them off. He looked disconsolately
at his slightly holey socks. "Soggy socks, or bare feet?" he mused, ignoring
Harry's impatient foot tapping.
"Ron, you know you'll just moan about treading on spiders if you take them off.
Let your socks get wet if the changing rooms are still damp. They should be all
right by now anyway."
"What if I wear trainers, they'd be quiet?" Ron tried hopefully.
"Yeah, until you stand on my toes like last time. If that happens when Filch is
anywhere near us we can say goodbye to the cloak."
Ron sighed and pulled his rather holey sock over the big toe that was poking out
of the end. "All right, all right. I was only asking."
- - - - - -
Once outside the tower Harry unfolded the Invisibility Cloak as Ron checked the
corridors for signs of Filch.
"All clear." Ron slipped under the cloak as Harry tried his best to ensure it
covered them both fully. They ended up with Ron a hair's breadth from being
pressed against Harry's back, and from the careful progress down the stairs he
seemed as keen as Harry to keep a little distance between them.
Harry was keenly aware of his breathing as he tried to maintain the gap between
them; it was as if taking a full deep breath would close the gap and they'd be
touching, chest to back, so he restricted himself to controlled shallow
breathing. Each bump of elbow and clash of knee was bad enough; he cursed his
teenage libido and tried to think hormone-quelling thoughts.
----------
The cool night air was a welcome relief as they slipped out of a side door and
headed round to the Quidditch pitch. The hoops and spectator stands loomed over
them and although this was far from the first time they had taken this route
across the grounds, Harry couldn't help feeling there was an air of menace in
the air tonight. What were the chances of Hermione being right? Her record was
good. He groaned inwardly at the thought of his real motives for being out here
in the middle of the night with Ron on a wild goose chase or just walking into a
trap. Ron had just looked so downhearted at Hermione's dismissal of his theory,
and the chance to go adventuring without anyone else tagging along was too good
too resist.
A quick "Alohamora!" and the damp salty, sweaty smell of the changing rooms
everywhere rolled into them. Who would have thought slimy Slytherins sweated
like anyone else? Harry pulled the cloak off them and rolled it up as they
padded across the tiled floor, feeling their way across the unfamiliar layout.
"Lumos!" The tip of Harry's wand glowed, casting deep shadows in the corners of
the white, green and silver tiled room. Ron grumbled as he managed to step in
the only remaining puddle in the shower area as they searched for the Slytherin
team lockers.
"Which d'you reckon? Malfoy's first, or is that too obvious?" Harry whispered as
they drew closer to the row of lockers.
"These are Slytherins we're talking about, obvious is their middle name." Ron
grinned as he steadied Harry's wand to read the names. "Here we are."
It was the work of seconds to open the locker door, but as the door swung back
Harry could have sworn he heard a muffled sound outside. Motioning for Ron to
search quietly, he moved closer to the showers again, ears straining for any
further sounds.
"Yes!" Ron hissed in triumph.
Turning slightly, Harry could see him stuffing something in his pocket. Ron
closed the locker door slowly just as a flash of light burst from the entrance
end of the changing rooms. Harry slid wildly on the slippery floor back over to
Ron, pulling him backwards towards the shower cubicles as the sound of footsteps
echoed in the corridor. They fell clumsily into the corner of the end cubicle
and ended up half sitting on each other, but hardly daring to move as voices
sounded close by. Harry just had the presence of mind to pull the cloak over
their tangled limbs in the midst of a confused rush of feelings at the close
contact.
"…definitely heard something. Don't know who would be out here at this time of
night but Malfoy was pretty insistent." The voice was resentful; probably one of
the junior prefects chafing under Malfoy's orders.
"Well there's no-one here now." The footsteps passed the shower cubicles,
pausing at each one, a shadow clearly visible through the cloak as they checked
the cubicle that hid the two Gryffindors.
Harry held his breath and prayed Ron was doing the same. The slightest movement
now and their precarious position was in danger of collapse; he was still hoping
the shadows in the cubicle would hide any bits of them that were showing from
under the cloak if it slipped.
The footsteps faded slowly, so slowly Harry thought they would never leave. With
a sigh he allowed himself to slide fully into the bottom of the shower stall,
pulling the cloak off over their heads.
"Ow." Ron extricated his leg from under Harry. "Think it's safe to leave? They
won't be watching, will they?"
"Even if they see the door open, they won't see us and we should be able to slip
out." Harry wished he was as confident as he sounded. If as it seemed, Malfoy
had realised Ron overheard the Slytherin team's conversation there could well be
someone watching outside. Those prefects had certainly turned up at the right
moment to catch any intruders.
They arranged themselves under the cloak as a precaution before even leaving the
cubicle, but there was no sign of anyone hanging around. The changing room door
was locked again but it took no longer to open this time than it had earlier.
They hurried away as fast as they could just in case there was some sort of
alarm on the door, but there was no sign of trouble on the way back to the dorm.
"So, what did you find?" Harry whispered as he struggled into his pyjamas in the
darkness, peering through the thick curtains. Ron padded over, shedding wet
socks on the way somewhere as far as Harry could tell from the uneven thuds and
squelches on the floor. Ron climbed up onto the bed and sat cross-legged as he
fished around in the pocket of his robes for his find. Harry lit his wand to
provide a low light that wouldn't pierce the thick hangings and disturb the rest
of the room.
"Here we are, it's a *potion*. You see what it says on the label? 'Play Harder,
For Longer'! They're…"
"Taking some sort of enhancement potion?"
"Yeah. This has to be it, right? The secret weapon."
"I suppose so." Harry couldn't see what else it could be. "We should get
Hermione to test it."
Ron's face creased into a vague frown. "I'm not sure she feels like doing me any
favours at the moment."
Harry yawned widely. "Well they're one potion down at least for tomorrow. That's
something."
Ron's face fell. "Damn. We should have checked the other lockers too. You think
the whole team is using the potion?"
"It would make sense, wouldn't it? If they were all talking about it, then I
can't see any of them wanting to be left out."
"Yeah, you're probably right." Ron swung his legs down off the bed with a sigh.
"Better get some sleep, or they won't need potions to beat us."
- - - - - -
"Ron, come on out. Everyone's gone now."
Harry could just about make out a muffled and angry 'Go away" from behind the
changing room toilet door.
"I bet no-one even noticed Ron, we were a long way up."
A snatch of singing from outside picked exactly the wrong moment to ring loud
and clear. "…no matter where the broomstick goes, UP goes the weasel!" Laughter
followed as the singing faded into the distance.
"Bloody Slytherins again." Harry muttered. He was just about at the end of his
tether with them this week.
"No-one noticed, right Harry." The voice was despondent, with a trace of a
sniffle.
"It's hardly the first time someone's got a bit…excited… on a broom." Harry
tried to think of reassuring things to say. "Remember when George collided with
Katie and she almost jumped off her broom in shock? Angelina was muttering about
it being sexual harassment for weeks."
"A bit excited? A bit!" The door opened a crack and a red face peered out
forlornly. "No-one else has had their robes torn almost completely off,
especially with a…thing…sticking up like a flagpole far enough to be seen from
the castle roof." He groaned at the memory. "*Why* did I take that potion?"
"You took the potion?" Of course. *Play harder, for longer*. Only it wasn't
Quidditch the makers were thinking of playing. Harry groaned. "I can't believe
you took it without getting it checked out."
"Can the 'I told you so's wait till later?"
"Yeah." This was all starting to make some sense, unfortunately. "Look, I don't
think this was an accident. Maybe Hermione was right, it was a set up. It was
certainly strange that it was your robes that were torn every time one of the
Slytherin team flew into you. And didn't they come up with that song a bit too
quickly? They knew one of us would be tempted to try the potion, and well…if
you were looking for that particular problem it wouldn't have been too hard to
spot it was you."
Ron swore loudly. "I'll kill them all! Wait till I get my hands on Malfoy,
I'll…"
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but stopped at a sound behind him. He pushed
Ron back slightly and pulled the door towards him to shield Ron from sight.
Their team-mates had been pulling his leg mercilessly all the time they showered
and changed, and a repeat was the last thing he needed.
However, it was not the expected sight of a Gryffindor team member returning for
a forgotten item that greeted him as he turned towards the sound. Harry frankly
stared as Draco Malfoy was dragged by the scruff of his neck into the changing
rooms by none other than Viktor Krum.
"You!" Harry could feel the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. "*You're*
the secret weapon?"
Krum nodded. "I haff been training the Slytherin team for a few weeks. Some,
more than others." He rested his hand firmly and possessively on Malfoy's
shoulder, and Harry was surprised to see the Slytherin lean slightly in towards
him as he did so. Was this what he thought it was?
"Now, vare is Mister Veasley? Draco vould like to apologise for his behaviour."
Harry nudged the door open again and a wide-eyed Ron took in the scene for the
first time.
"Vell?" Krum pushed Malfoy forward.
"I'm so very sorry. It was a stupid trick to play." Malfoy drawled it in a
voice dripping with insincerity.
"That's no good, Draco. I told you vot vould happen if you did not do as I say."
Krum's voice was stern, and Harry saw Malfoy suppress a shiver of apprehension.
What the hell was going on here?
Krum turned towards Ron once more. "Mister Veasley, if you vish some assistance
Draco vill help you vith that."
Ron blanched. "Help me with…?"
Krum nodded. "His training, it is coming along, though he still needs some
practice. Shall I tell him to help? His mouth, it feels very good."
Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times before turning to Harry in mute
appeal. Casting a sideways glance at Malfoy, Harry could see the boy suppressing
his rage, but with a certain resignation in his eyes. God, he'd really do it
too, he realised.
"I don't think that's necessary, but um, thanks for the offer." Harry couldn't
suppress a slight smirk as his eyes passed over the humiliated Malfoy. He heard
Ron let out a relieved breath behind him.
"Very vell, but Draco must be punished. Mister Veasley vos embarrassed, vos he
not?"
"Oh yeah." Ron may have been floored by the thought of Malfoy touching him, but
Harry would have been more surprised if he'd not wanted a little bit of revenge.
"Vell then, Draco, you may perform for me instead. The practice, it vill do you
good." Krum moved back to lean against the red and gold patterned tiles
decorating the changing room wall and waited. After a few seconds, Malfoy
sullenly dropped to his knees, his slightly shaking hands sliding up and over
Krum's legs through his robes.
Harry watched, fascinated and unable to tear his gaze away, as Malfoy parted the
robes and located a zip in the close fitting trousers Krum wore underneath. In
moments the zip and trousers were down far enough for a long thick cock to
spring up into Malfoy's face. Without hesitation Malfoy wrapped a hand around
it, stroking with an ease that betrayed a degree of familiarity as he nervously
wet his lips with a darting tongue. Harry tried to imagine what that little
snake-like tongue would feel like flicking against his cock while encased in a
hot eager mouth…and he really needed to stop thinking things like that. He
squirmed slightly, wondering quite when the day had slipped into the sort of
alternate reality where Draco Malfoy – *Draco Malfoy* - was apparently about to
suck off Viktor Krum in front of himself and Ron in the middle of the Gryffindor
changing rooms. He didn't dare look at Ron, or move in case he slipped back to
the real world where sex didn't happen at school, or at least not anywhere near
him.
All thoughts of Ron flew from his mind as soon as Malfoy began to lick his way
up Krum's erection. Harry noted with curiosity the way he slowly nipped and
rubbed the ridge of his teeth against the sensitive underside before teasingly
running his lips up the length and pulling away again to flick darting licks at
it. He rubbed his face catlike against Krum's leg and hip as the man relaxed
further against the wall under the attention, rising and falling on his knees as
he did so, until his mouth was level with the swollen tip of Krum's cock. He
paused, ran his hand smoothly down the thick shaft of flesh to fully expose the
sensitive head, and parted his pale lips to take it slowly inside his mouth.
Harry held his breath as he watched Krum push his hips forward to thrust further
into Malfoy's eager mouth, both of them seemingly unaware of the audience by
now, and in the grip of a compulsion Harry could barely grasp except with a
vague echo of need in the pit of his stomach and the growing hardness his hands
were aching to touch.
Malfoy was sucking enthusiastically enough, lips closed tight as he slid them
slowly, twisting and stroking, up and down, up and down. Harry could see Malfoy
was working his tongue around the tip as he slid to the end, then sucking with a
smack of his lips before sinking back down. With a shock he realised the
Slytherin seemed to be actually enjoying himself, or was at least doing a
convincing impression of it. As the boy rose again slightly, bucking towards
Krum, he saw that Malfoy's left hand was pressed tightly against his robes over
his own noticeable erection.
Ron's heavy breathing behind him told him he wasn't entirely alone in having
found the performance interesting so far. He was sorely tempted to glance at Ron
to see his reaction, but suddenly Krum was panting and murmuring something
indistinct, his head rolling against the damp shower room wall, strands of dark
hair clinging wetly to the tiles. He clutched at Malfoy's head, fingers grasping
hard at the fine blond hair until Harry was sure he was going to pull handfuls
out. Malfoy kept his head still as Krum groaned and tensed, thrusting his hips
one last time before Malfoy's pale throat clearly gulped, swallowing Krum's
release.
Malfoy wiped his mouth off as he stood again, eyes fixed on Krum as if he wanted
to pretend neither of the others were present. Harry couldn't blame him for
that.
"Very good Draco. There is hope for you yet." Krum rearranged his robes and
turned to Harry. "Good day, and congratulations on the vin. Come Draco, ve will
take care of your little problem elsevare."
As their footsteps echoed down the corridor Ron turned wide eyes towards Harry.
"Bloody hell. I wish I'd said yes now."
- - - - - -
Ron was very quiet after they returned to the dorm. Harry had expected him to
take advantage of the tower being almost empty as the house celebrated their win
and relieve his problem in the bathroom or behind the curtains of his bed with a
silencing charm for privacy.
Instead he lay on his bed with the curtains almost fully closed, squirming
enough to show he was still suffering from the lack of relief.
"Um, do you want me to leave you alone?" Harry hovered by the parted curtains,
not wanting to take away support, and especially not if he was going to be able
to imagine Ron touching himself while he was still in the room…
Ron sat up slightly, leaning on his elbows. It looked uncomfortable. "No. I was
just thinking."
"What about?"
Ron was silent for a moment.
"D'you think it's wrong to…" He paused uncertainly. "I *liked* watching Krum and
Malfoy. It was…exciting."
Harry wasn't sure quite what Ron was trying to say. He groped for something to
say that might clarify things.
"The potion…"
"It wasn't the potion. I know I enjoyed watching…my imagination…that *tongue*…"
Ron shivered slightly.
Harry started. "I think that's normal. I…was thinking about that too."
"You think it feels as good as it looked?" Ron's question was hesitant.
"Oh it does." Harry's voice was fervent, and he only realised what he'd said
after it had escaped his treacherous mouth.
"You know?" Ron's voice was incredulous, overriding even the hurt Harry could
hear. "Well thanks for sticking to the deal Harry. Who was it? Half the girls in
the school look at you as if they want to eat you so it's a bit hard to guess."
His voice was bitter and angry.
"It was before the deal. Just. Actually it's the *reason* for the deal. It was
more than I could handle." Harry was torn between slapping Ron for calling him a
liar and grabbing him to show him what it was like. "It's not my secret to give
away, but…"
"What? What excuse do you have for not telling me this time? As if you need
one."
Yeah, he had definitely hurt Ron. Secrets every time, it was always the same
problem. You'd think he'd learn; think they all would.
"It wasn't a girl, Ron." He felt light-headed, his head pounded and his heart
was going to keep speeding up faster and faster until it burst, he just knew it.
Ron's mouth made an "Oh" shape but the word never emerged.
"Yeah. Exactly."
"Have you…did you…" Ron stopped, as if unsure he wanted to finish the question
let alone hear the answer.
"Do it too?" Harry finished for him. He took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah I did."
Ron swallowed heavily, his eyes wide and fixed on Harry's slightly flushed face.
"Show me?"
- - - - - -
It was the longest journey he'd ever made. Forget the harrowing drive with the
Dursleys to spend his eleventh birthday hiding in a shack in a howling
thunderstorm. Forget packing his trunk and leaving home on the run from the
Ministry and wondering when he'd ever get to a safe place. Forget the terrifying
flight in the car to Hogwarts that ended in the Whomping Willow. The few feet
from the parted curtains at the end of Ron's bed to the side where he lay was
the greatest distance he'd ever covered, and the most terrifying. His eyes
passed over the pattern on the thick heavy curtains that blocked Ron from his
view as his feet carried him breathless and heavy-limbed to the side of the bed
he normally looked over at every night before sleeping, imagining he was shut
inside instead of on the outside.
Oh god. What if he couldn't do it? It was two years since that night at The
Burrow, indulging his newly found interest in redheads, and it had
been…difficult. Good in some ways, and what he wanted, but in others so strange,
and *it tasted funny* he remembered. And this was *Ron*…who might only want to
experiment, and if he wasn't any good, he could put him off forever. *I'll get
there and he'll change his mind*, he thought. *Or find he's only joking.* As he
approached the bed however, Ron's robes were sliding towards the floor to land
in a pool of black at Harry's feet. His hair was ruffled where the robes had
been hastily pulled off over his head, and his face slightly flushed. Hungry
eyes burned in the familiar freckled face, somehow grown older in the last few
hours, maybe even the last few minutes.
Ron reached up to close the curtains as Harry's robes joined his on the floor.
He knelt, hands trembling, waiting for Harry to reach him. Harry had never seen
a more appealing sight. His chest was bare, since he'd thrown robes on so
quickly to get back to the castle from the changing rooms. The worn flimsiness
of the thin faded boxer shorts with the failing elastic and the tear where he'd
caught them on a stray nail; the warm solid body that threatened to burst out of
them in all directions and made Harry want to feel and taste and just hold him
to keep all the pieces together when it finally, inevitably happened. The
growing dark patch in front was now clearly visible, and the straining erection
was barely hidden by the damp cotton. Harry needed a deep breath before setting
a knee on the bed and accepting Ron's outstretched hand.
The hand pulled him onto the bed, until they were kneeling almost chest to
chest. Ron looked apprehensive for a moment, but Harry had to give him credit
for more nerve than him as Ron slid a tentative arm around his waist and drew
him closer. From unbelievably close up Harry saw Ron part his lips and before he
knew it he was hovering against them, breath tight in his chest and his lips dry
and *god the heat*…he allowed himself to be drawn in, feeling his hands clutch
at solid reassuring shoulders, the skin cool against his sweaty palms. Ron's
lips were softer than he expected, and he found himself nipping and sucking at
them teasingly, watching Ron's eyes close as he pulled back to work his way down
the warm neck, licking and nuzzling. Damp hands slid over goosebumped flesh,
fingers spread wide to cover as much ground as possible before reaching the thin
cotton pulled smooth over Ron's buttocks. He felt Ron draw in a sudden breath as
he pressed their bodies together, and couldn't help wondering if the feel of
another erection against him would spell the end of his determination to go
through with this.
To his surprise Ron pushed back harder, swollen cock now poking out of the
inadequate shorts as he moved rhythmically against the smaller body, trying
instinctively to find the best friction possible against the other boy. He was
moving awkwardly, and the hardness was prodding Harry's stomach uncomfortably.
Given he'd spent the best part of four hours now with a raging erection,
however, and most of it in the middle of a difficult Quidditch match, Harry was
disposed to be sympathetic. He trailed his hands gently round to Ron's hips and
manoeuvred him so they were pressed cock to aching cock, warm dampness spreading
between both of them as thin underclothes proved an ineffective barrier to their
excitement.
Ron moaned as Harry grasped him firmly, pressing their bodies closer as he slid
a hand up and down the straining shaft jabbing enthusiastically at his hip. Hot
breath on his neck almost made him lose control as Ron lowered his head to
Harry's shoulder, groaning at each stroke of Harry's hand as he gained in
confidence. Harry felt the damp body push harder and harder against him, and
forced himself to hold the other boy back a moment. He tugged at Ron's boxer
shorts, pushing him backwards until he was sure he had the right idea. Harry
pulled the shorts free at last as the redhead lay back, gasping as a hot mouth
slowly closed around him. Harry scraped his nails along his hip, wanting to
touch, to scratch, to tear at the skin. He wanted to gulp, to devour, to graze
with teeth and tease with tongue, but for now he mimicked the actions he'd
watched Malfoy perform as Ron groaned in pleasure beneath him. As he felt Ron
tense and clutch his hair, he had a moment of panic before relaxing to accept
Ron spilling into his mouth, at least for a moment until he pulled away. His
mouth tingled with the unfamiliar taste as he pulled himself up level with Ron's
face, teasing with a bitter-flavoured tongue as he pressed himself tightly
against Ron's hip and rubbed until he felt his own tension release in a warm
flood.
Large warm hands pulled him in to hold him tightly as Ron murmured quietly into
his hair. Harry couldn't make any of the words out and wasn't sure he was meant
to, but it felt good to be held, even sweaty and sticky with a cold breeze
making him all too aware of his state of undress. He felt more than heard Ron
chuckle into his shoulder as he drowsed.
"What?" Harry yawned, attempting to wriggle closer still in the process.
Ron pulled the thick bedclothes over them both, careless of stickiness and
discarded robes. "I was just thinking," he mumbled sleepily. "You're the Boy Who
Lived, the hero, the best at deflecting curses and all that, right?"
"Hmmm? 'S'pose." Yawn. "And?"
"So you're good at surviving dangerous situations."
Silence.
"Ron. I am not, repeat *not*, being the one to tell Hermione about this."
"Damn."
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