"Just A Bit Of Fun"
Pairing: Ron Weasley / Harry Potter
Rating: "M" – for language and references to male/male sex acts
DISCLAIMER: This story is fictional – that's F-I-C-T-I-O-N. It never happened, and is not real. It is the product of my own imagination. It contains descriptions of male slash (that's male/male homosexual relations). If you do not like this type of content, or if you find homosexuality or its practice offensive, please click the "Back" button or close your Internet browser NOW, and do not read any further. All characters and copyrights are owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers™ (AOL Time Warner), but this story is owned by me and is all my own work.
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Sorry, but it's got to be done. Under the Law of England, Wales and Northern Ireland, the Legal Age of Consent for penetrative sexual relations in England and Wales is 16, and Northern Ireland, 17; and under the Law of Scotland, the LAOC is 16. This clause covers me legally as this age can differ in other countries. However, this story contains descriptions of a sexual nature and implications of penetrative sexual activity between under-age males. For the purposes of this story, Ron is 16 while Harry is still 15. I must point out that Ron (who is 16) is legally allowed to consent to such practices – unless, of course, that Hogwarts has mysteriously floated across the Irish Sea and now lives in Co. Antrim or something(!) – yet Harry's age is irrelevant, as he is not receiving penetrative sex. That's it. Thanks for reading, and on with the story…
"You see, Ron, what we have is just a bit of fun. Just a bit of harmless fucking, where nobody will get hurt". I know that's what it was supposed to be. I know those were the rules of the game. But I fucked up. I broke the number one, most sacred, golden rule, the most important one of all.
I started having feelings for you.
I tried to act happy for you when you kissed Cho Chang. I really did. But it seems that I'm not such a great actor after all. Hermione saw right through that one, of course. She waited until we were on our own before demanding to know what was wrong. So I told her. Everything – from being gay, to the sex we have. She seemed sympathetic but I knew that she was secretly disgusted with me from the look in her eyes. I'm good at sensing disapproval in people – you need to be if you're… well, if you're someone like me. It comes with the job description. But she was getting increasingly uncomfortable when I tried to be myself after the admission – all I did was point out that while Krum was cute, and rich, I just don't think that he's the right guy for her. She got a bit touchy over that and said that while she does understand, she does not agree with it and she certainly does not want to hear about my private life. I pointed out that we weren't talking about my private life, we were talking about hers, but she just snapped back that they were similar subjects and hearing me bitch about men constantly reminded her of what "people of my disposition" (her words, not mine) got up to in the bedroom. And, shuddering, she left me in the common room and went to bed, muttering under her breath so that I couldn't hear what she was saying.
She apologised for it later, though. That was fine, it's not her fault, really. You see, Hermione has got her problems with prejudice, but she always puts friendship first. I mean, she's battling against the conservative viewpoints bestowed upon her by her parents since before she came to Hogwarts. Well, look at the werewolf issue – she got over that one okay (alright, so I'm guilty of that one too. But I tried hard and eventually came to see that there's nothing wrong with it!). And I suppose that they are similar things, lycanthropy and homosexuality. For the most part, we are completely normal people, gays and werewolves. Yet we are ridiculed, feared and discriminated against because of who we are… On the other hand, they are completely different issues. Look at Lupin… although I have had some suspicions about him for a good long while!
It's just a bit of fun…
"Me and Cho. Now that's a proper relationship," you said. You barely know Chang! The only reason you started drooling over her in the first place was that she looked good on a sodding broomstick! I mean, you can't even cope with her emotions! You can't even understand that she might have feelings of her own.
Feelings different from yours.
But then, you never could, could you…
Hermione always said that I have the emotional range of a teaspoon. Well, if that's the case then I propose that you could fit your entire range of emotions on the point of a pin.
As for having a proper relationship, I beg to differ. We were best friends long before we were lovers. We knew everything about each other. Now I don't know about your standards, but my Mum and Dad brought me up to think that that is a pretty good base to build a relationship on.
Of course, I'm incapable of feeling the emotions needed for a proper relationship. I'm a gay man, and that means that I'm always only out to get one thing – a cheap fuck. And I don't care how I get it, just as long as it's male, and up my arse. Now. Yes! Backs to the walls, boys! Watch out, Weasley's about, and he's after bum-sex from you all!
Yeah, right. Don't flatter yourselves, boys!
I suppose that's to be expected, though. From childhood we are bombarded by images of the perfect little man with his perfect little wife and their perfect little family, which makes everybody happy. But who cares if the perfect little man isn't quite so perfect after all, because he doesn't want the perfect little wife, but the perfect little husband? We don't know, do we? Because we never hear about it. And all those fairy tales… all we know from them is that the handsome hero always gets the girl in the end. Wouldn't it throw a spanner in the works if Prince Charming didn't end up with Sleeping Beauty or Snow White, but took a fancy to one of the dwarves instead? A slightly different story, isn't it, if Wendy didn't fall for Peter Pan but went chasing after Tinkerbell?
"Romeo and Mercutio"? Doesn't quite have the same ring to it as "Romeo and Juliet", does it?
Oops! There's me, going off on a tangent, away with the fairies! Oh, fairies! Get it? Ha ha ha!
You always hated me making jokes like that, didn't you? Afraid that someone might hear me and guess your little secret? But why should they, when you flirt with anything wearing a skirt (except for Hermione, of course!) and put down any suggestion that its okay to be gay, and that gay relationships are just as good as straight ones? Methinks the boy doth protest too much. You'd better watch it, or the other guys will start to think you're a bit of a closet-case. But then, you love to act the big man in public, don't you?
Nah, you're not a closet-case at all. You're just a shit. A shit that will shag anything that moves.
Then why do I care so much?
I wasn't expecting us to fall head over heels in love with each other. I wasn't expecting us to be complete soul-mates. I wasn't expecting us to plan to run off and get married the minute we leave Hogwarts, like my Mum and Dad did. And your Mum and Dad did. I don't know what I was expecting, but I thought that I would at least be more to you than just a fuck buddy. Harry's little love-toy, where you go to get your jollies because you can't have Cho Chang, no matter how hard you try to get into her knickers.
You see, Harry, you don't really have a sexuality. You don't care whether you're sleeping with another man or another woman. You just want a nice, tight hole to stick your little dick into. And it would have to be tight, wouldn't it? After all, it's not really my body that feels it! No, it's by heart, each stroke and shove driving nails deeper and deeper into my soul. You don't care what said hole happens to be, or in which part of the anatomy it is – all you want is for it to be there, waiting and willing, so you can get your rocks off in it.
Always, I lie there on my stomach while you have your way with me, all huffing and puffing, acting like you're doing me a big favour, as if it is all for me. Then why, if you're such a big man, don't you let me face you? Why don't you look at me, let me see your face? Your eyes? Are you really so ashamed of what you're doing that you want to pretend that you're fucking someone (or something) else?
"It's just a bit of fun," you keep reminding me. But how can it be if it's so one-sided? How can it be if you want to pretend it's something else?
"Sex is sex," you tell me. Well, let me tell you a story, Harry. It's the story of making love. Like any good story, it has a beginning, a middle and a conclusion, where all is resolved. It begins with attraction, the middle is the deed itself, and the conclusion, well, speaks for itself… and resolution comes in the form of love, and respect, and mutual friendship.
But what have we got? Let's see, shall we? Well, it's got a beginning, a middle and a conclusion. So it's a story. It may not have a resolution (so it may not be a good story), but it has a conclusion.
Oh, Hell, it has a conclusion.
And as my mouth releases the pillow that I was biting on throughout the fast, hammering affair, you just get up and walk away. I begin to clean up the mess which you once again leave me in, without the care or inclination to even finish myself off. Once again, you haven't even bothered to check if I even enjoyed it, did you? Not even a thank you. Simple a "Goodnight, Ron" before you disappear.
What a conclusion…
And as I cry after the sordid thing is done, weeping silently lest you should hear me and grow disgusted that I might, just might, have feelings for you, I gradually fall asleep with one thought on my mind.
Don't worry about it, Ron…
After all, it's just a bit of fun…