Pairing(s): Harry/Ron, Hermione/Ron (past)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Content: Alpha/Omega Dynamics, Post-Hogwarts AU, Smut & Fluff, Humour
Notes: Many thanks to my wonderful beta, MyFirstistheFourth. This fun story wouldn't exist without you. And to the lovely mods, thank you for allowing my muse to join the fun a little late.

Eau de l'Alpha & l'Oméga

Opening the front door to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Ron declared over his shoulder to his two friends, "I want at least seven, like Mum and Dad." He grinned widely. "But eight would be better. You know; enough to fill an entire Quidditch team plus have a reserve player."

Harry and Hermione, laughing at his honest enthusiasm, followed him inside, the familiar hotchpotch of lemon-scented wood polish, sweetness from various confections, and musty sourness from the less savory practical jokes washing over them. The bell at the top of the door rang wildly when the door banged shut, drawing the attention of nearby browsing customers.

"Really, Ron," Hermione said in a lowered voice, a smile playing at her lips, "I can't even imagine having one, let alone eight. I'm glad we figured out that we are better off as friends before it was too late."

Harry both agreed and disagreed with what Hermione had said. "I can," he tacked on. "That is, I can see myself having a big family." Wistfully, Harry added, "And maybe one day I will...when I find the right wizard." He looked longingly at the back of Ron's fiery mop of red hair and wished that, after his contentious relationship with Hermione, Ron would once again risk crossing the line between platonic love and romantic love for him.

Through surrogacy, it would be possible to have a brood of little boys and girls speckled with lovely freckles just like Ron. Harry often dreamt of that future; all the love and happiness they would be able to share if only Ron would give them a chance.

Ron turned around to regard Harry. Their eyes met and held; a painful yearning, an honest heartfelt attraction, simmering between the two friends.

Interrupting the moment, Fred and George slapped Ron on the back and then each slid an arm around Ron's shoulder blades.

George, lowering his head in a conspiratorial manner towards Ron's ear, said at a not so conspiratorial volume, "Ron, you won't have enough sprogs for a game of Exploding Snap if you keep refusing to sink at least one Quaffle in a ring when the opportunity presents itself."

Ears turning bright red, Ron sputtered in indignation.

Fred nodded his head, agreeing with his twin. "So far this year, you've had dates with almost the entire Harpies team."

"And the Cannons," George added.

"And the United," Fred continued. "All ending with either a kiss on the cheek."

"Or an awkward handshake," George finished, shaking his head with exaggerated sadness.

Finding his tongue, Ron retorted, "I-it's called being a good bloke...a-a gentleman." He glanced at Hermione, seeking support.

"Sorry, Ron." Hermione grimaced. "But I have to agree with your brothers. Over the years, you've dated so many male and female Quidditch players that we've started calling them by their uniform numbers."

Ron's jaw went slack, and Harry's lips formed into a brittle smile as he tried to hide his ongoing jealousy.

"Harry?" Ron implored, giving him puppy-dog eyes.

"Um, I think I'm going to keep mum about it..." Flustered by Ron's stunning blue eyes, Harry quickly concealed his rising blush, pretending to study his shoes.

"Break it up; break it up, you two." George shooed them further into the shop.

Fred smirked. "Yeah, enough with your flirting; inventory's awaiting."

At George's and Fred's words, Hermione covered her smile with a hand, feigning a cough, while Ron and Harry flushed, avoiding each other's eyes. As they all shuffled forward, the twins expertly herded Ron and Harry so that they were walking side by side at the head of the group. When they reached the middle of the shop, they—and everyone else in the store—heard a loud squeal of joy followed by, "They're here!"

Sounding like charging centaurs, an army of Weasleys descended upon them from every corner of the store. Down the stairs from above, up the stairs from below, bickering, chatting, teasing, and scolding; they all converged on them.

George's husband, Lee Jordan, arrived first, greeting the new arrivals with a large smile and whacking great hugs. The couple's adopted children, twins Gideon and Fabian, named after their departed great uncles, and their two daughters, Polly and Mimi, darted to their sides next.

Angelina Weasley, formerly Johnson, followed suit, first giving Fred a peck on the lips before saying hello to their guests. Fred and Angelina grunted when their son, Percy, named in honor of his uncle who had died during the war, bumped into their legs seeking refuge. It became apparent why when the rest of their children emerged, all three of them wielding Vomit Volley Catapults.

"Roxanne, Estelle, Felix," Angelina evenly warned. The contraband merchandise promptly vanished into various pockets and Percy finally stopped clutching at his parents' trouser legs.

Hermione watched as Ron and Harry gazed at the children and sneaked aching looks at each other—as usual—sighing at their overly stubborn and hopeless behavior.

Covertly glancing at the twins and their spouses, she gave a minuscule nod of her head. Fred and George rubbed their hands together; mischievous, closed-mouth grins appearing on their faces.

Lee and Angelina asked the children to say their goodbyes, kissed their spouses farewell, and then guided the young Weasleys towards the exit.

The twins and trio of friends resumed their journey towards the backroom, maneuvering around displays of Chocolate Crying Cockroaches, Cross-eyed Lemon Twirls, and Serenading Slugs along the way.

Approaching a thick wooden door divided by long wrought-iron strap hinges, Fred grabbed a nearby torch and then turned around so that he was facing away from the entrance. He spun around twice, his magenta robes flaring around his long legs, and proceeded to walk backwards, his body sinking into the dark wood as if he were falling into a large vat of melted chocolate.

A second later, everyone heard the door unlock with a click. Fred pulled the heavy door open; his arm outstretched towards the room in welcome. "The coast is clear," Fred joked, encouraging Ron and Harry to enter with a wave of his hand.

The windowless, low ceiling room was only lit by the torch placed on the wall between the door and the work table, cluttered with parchment, bottles, and various doobries. The semi-darkness created the illusion that the shelves of merchandise, located at the opposite side of the room stretched on forever.

Ron and Harry immediately headed for the shelves, excited to get a sneak preview of next season's releases: a promised compromise for them helping to inventory the entire store.

"Barking Bacon Brittle!" Hungrily eyeing the candy, its wrapper illustrated with a dog and pig twirling about together on their hind legs, Ron began dancing his own silly little jig before turning around. "You used my—" Hermione and his brothers were nowhere in sight—and the door was shut.

Harry, noticing Ron's sudden silence, glanced behind him to find Ron striding towards the exit. Ron tried the latch, but the door wouldn't budge. Next, he tried pulling on the handle with two hands, again with no luck. Removing his wand from his robes, Ron cast the strongest unlocking spell he had learned as an Auror.

Blinding white light inundated the entire workroom as the security wards activated. A backlash of pressure, which felt both hot and cold, caused Harry to collapse onto his knees and Ron to fall onto his bum.

"Bloody hell…" Ron groaned, bending his knee and rolling slightly to rub at the soreness spreading through his buttocks.

Harry grunted as he climbed to his feet then marched over to the door. Banging on the wooden surface with a fist, he yelled, "We're locked in!" He jiggled the handle. "Fred…George…Hermione… Is anyone there!"

"Yes, Harry," Hermione calmly answered.

"Hermione," Harry exclaimed with relief. "Can you get either Fred or George? The door appears to have locked us in."

"I know."

"You know." Harry frowned. "You know what?"

"That you and Ron are locked in."

Ron joined Harry at the door and then said with annoyance, "Hermione, okay, you got one over on the two Aurors. Ha, ha. Very funny. Now can you open the door?"

"I will after you've talked with one another."

"About what, Hermione? The weather. Windows are a little scarce to find in here," Ron bit back.

"I'm sick and tired of you two acting like such idiots. Talk. And don't attempt to weasel your way out; any magic inside the room will only trigger the wards. This door will not open until you've worked things out," she said with finality.

At the thought of having to talk, Harry and Ron glanced at each other with mounting apprehension before turning back to the door.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron both shouted repeatedly, pounding on the door.

Throat growing sore, Harry thumped his forehead against the barred exit. "It's no use."

Ron soon gave up as well. Feigning ignorance, he probed, "Do you know what she was chuntering on about?" In the back of his mind, there was a glimmer of hope that Harry knew how he felt, but as usual, his fear of mucking up what they did have made him hold his tongue.

Harry, feeling betrayed, remained silent, thinking. How could my friends put me in such a cruel spot? If he told Ron how he truly felt, he would probably be met with abashed laughter, a playful slap on the back, and a good ribbing. At least right now, he had the illusion that they might one day be more. He didn't want to have his dream smashed and his heart broken.

"Harry?"

Sighing, Harry shook his head and finally answered Ron's question. "No, I don't know what she's talking about."

"Oh," Ron uttered, shoulders slumping. Forcing cheerfulness into his voice, he suggested, "Since we're here, we might as well take a better look around." At Harry's sweet smile, Ron felt as if his ribcage and sternum were collapsing onto his heart.

"Look?" Eyes gleaming impishly, Harry returned to the shelves. "You mean try." He selected a box of Barking Bacon Brittle and tossed it to Ron.

Easily falling back into their lighthearted camaraderie, Ron smiled broadly, already tearing into the container of sweets.

Over an hour later, Harry and Ron sat on the stone floor against the door; empty wrappers, boxes, and tins scattered around them.

Ron rose to his feet, brushing crumbs off his shirt and jeans. "You want anything else?"

"No..." With the cloying taste of sugar coating his tongue, Harry changed his mind. "Maybe some water."

Harry's request was problematic; the work room no longer had plumbing as a precautionary measure. Last year, a quarter of the inventory was lost due to suspicious flooding. The twins suspected it was most likely the new owner of Zonko's who had orchestrated it, but they could never prove it. Also knowing a simple Water-Making Spell might burn off his eyebrows, Ron walked towards the messy worktable in search of something safe to drink. He picked up each bottle he found, opening and sniffing it like he did when investigating potions in the field. After having set aside numerous pest poisons, love potions, and something that smelled so foul it wouldn't be worth risking it, only two identically shaped bottles remained.

Lifting the one to the left, Ron removed the glass stopper and inhaled an intriguing scent. Curious, he studied the bottle more closely. Turning it towards the light of the torch, he found an oval sticker. In faint script, he read, Eau de l'Alpha. A perfume of some sort he guessed. Ron shrugged and applied some to a wrist, breathing in a deep lungful. The last unexplored bottle instantaneously seized his attention. With his right hand, Ron picked up the remaining bottle, setting in its place the perfume he had previously used.

Ron soon discovered a similar label on the last bottle. Eau de l'Oméga. Setting aside the stopper, he breathed in the scent emanating from the bottle, moaning in appreciation. "This smells brilliant."

"What does?" Harry asked, rising to his feet.

Hurrying over to Harry, Ron pressed his body fully along Harry's side, causing his friend to silently gasp. Nuzzling his nose into Harry's wild, thick hair, Ron whispered, "This." He dabbed a bit of the perfume behind each of Harry's earlobes.

Harry felt warmth spread down his neck, tickling nerve endings. He cried out suddenly, startled when Ron began to follow the plane of his neck with his tongue. As Harry warily stepped backwards, growing hard in his jeans, he stammered, "R-Ron?"

Harry's back hit the door, allowing Ron to close in once more. He noticed the bottle in Ron's hand and deduced it was the reason for Ron's uncharacteristic behavior. For an instant, he contemplated not doing anything, of letting Ron continue to explore his needy body, but he knew it wouldn't be right.

Fast as lightning, Harry grabbed for the bottle. He successfully yanked it away from Ron, but the momentum of his hand also caused a majority of it to splash onto his face.

Harry cried out and crumbled to the floor. As fire coursed throughout his body, his hand loosened around the small glass container, and it clinked onto the floor. Passion seeming to burn from within traveled from his head, down his torso, and overflowed into his extremities. His fingers longed to touch, his toes wanted to curl from rapture, and his cock ached. It ached so much all he could do was whine and writhe.

"Harry!" Ron shouted, fear stifling his desire. He watched with increasing panic as Harry, wild-eyed and panting, tore at his shirt. Hammering at the door with both fists, Ron bellowed, "Somebody, help! Please! Something's wrong with Harry…"

Shirt off in shreds, Harry clawed at his belt. His arse twitched as a trickle of slippery wetness leaked from its opening. "Ron, please." Having too much trouble with his belt, he moved his hands towards his straining erection.

Voice hoarse, Ron stopped mid-shout, his mouth going dry. Harry was an erotic dream come true; his fit torso exposed, cheeks flushed, lips swollen red and parted, and the bulge of his cock on his upper thigh clearly discernable. Suddenly, Harry curled around his belly, whimpering in pain.

"Fuck," Ron croaked loudly. Giving up on outside help, he tore to the worktable, scouring the counter for a possible antidote or nullifier. He grunted in surprise when Harry jumped onto his back, shoving him down onto the surface of the table, knocking over the other perfume bottle.

As Harry fumbled at him from behind, legs twining around his, hands pulling at fabric, the musky liquid soaked through Ron's shirt and into his skin. A low rumble vibrated from Ron's chest as Harry's honeyed scent swamped his senses; suddenly all he could think about was satiating Harry's desperate need.

Clutching Harry's buttocks with his hands, Ron straightened, letting Harry gently slip down his back into a standing position. He groaned at the feel of Harry's erection sliding along his body. Before Harry could whine in protest from the momentary lack of physical contact, Ron spun himself around and, hands shaking, began divesting Harry of his belt. Smelling Harry's building arousal, he snarled with irritation, his fingers not working nearly fast enough.

Ron tugged at Harry's jeans, unfastening the button and lowering the zip. Dipping his thumbs past Harry's waistband, he paused. What the bloody hell am I doing, he asked himself, rationality briefly breaking through his lust. I… I… His breathing became harsher and his trembling more pronounced as his fear of ruining their friendship fought with his longtime yearning and newfound instincts.

Harry, feeling no hesitancy at all, elongated his neck in clear offering.

Growling in frustration and eagerness, Ron latched onto Harry's smooth, corded neck; sucking and teasingly biting as he maneuvered Harry's jeans and pants down over the curve of his pert bum. With his large hands, Ron cupped Harry's pale arse, his fingertips smearing a slipperiness he found on the edges of its crevice: a magically induced lubrication of some sort.

Near tears from being touched and kissed, Harry's knees gave out as he felt Ron's fingers delve further, circling his needy hole.

Ron, supporting Harry's weight, eased him onto the floor and then, powerless to resist, sucked Harry's delicious taste from his coated fingers, savoring them one by one.

Once Harry was lying down, he managed to kick off his shoes, jeans, and pants. Bending his knees and spreading his legs wide, Harry exposed his dripping arsehole and swollen cock. He looked pleadingly at Ron, waiting.

Ron swallowed hard in amazement. "Blimey, Harry, but you look beautiful." Dropping to his knees, he released his straining member. He had fantasized about this moment so many times; he feared he was only dreaming. "Harry, is this real?"

Tears ran down Harry's face, his emotions heightening the hypersensitivity of his skin, overwhelming him. "Please…be real… Please… Ron…"

Hearing his name, Ron closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath; he couldn't wait another second. Lining up the seeping head of his cock with Harry's twitching, slippery hole, he opened his eyes and savored Harry's reaction as he buried himself into wet, hot perfection.

Harry cried out, neck arching, eyes rolling back into his head. Ron being inside him was pure bliss, like cool spring water quenching parched lips; his steady strokes so careful and tender, allowing Harry to luxuriate in every inch of the thick cock. Harry's hands sought out Ron's face, pulling him closer. They gazed into each other's dilated eyes, their desire and love for one another undeniable, and finally, they kissed.

The kiss was exploratory: soft, deep, and long. Gasping for air, sweat trickling down the sides of his body, Harry canted his hips wanting more.

Bracing his feet against the worktable, Ron used the leverage to drive in harder, each thrust causing the table to loudly strike the wall and Harry to moan wantonly.

Without warning, the door to the workroom was flung open; soon followed by Hermione's shocked gasp and the twin's knowing, boisterous laughter being cut short by the door slamming shut.

The interruption flowed over Ron and Harry like water; so enthralled with each other neither one bothered to turn away from the other's gaze. Together they continued to ascend, closer and closer to their peaks.

In addition to the exquisite throbbing growing inside him, Harry also felt so whole and carefree; like the part of him that had learned he must suffer fear alone, that had thought the safe embrace he could always turn to was lost forever, was now being replaced with an emotion that was somewhere between absolute ease and complete happiness. Harry breathily moaned Ron's name, so close to tumbling over the precipice to orgasm.

On his next stroke, Ron's eyes widened as an intense pressure he had never experienced before suddenly filled the base of his length. As his cock swiftly swelled far beyond what was usual, his mind raced. Eau de l'Oméga…Eau de l'Alpha… Alpha... Alpha!

Ron and Harry gasped simultaneously; Ron in realization, and Harry from the unexpected sensation of Ron's expanding cock forcefully pushing against his bundle of nerves. Nails digging into Ron's back, Harry choked on a cry and fell into ecstasy.

Harry's pulsing walls were a siren call to Ron's release. Ron groaned in panic and pleasure, trying to pull free from Harry's clenching arse but unable to do so. "H-Harry. Harry, this is bad. Really bad," he said, as semen spurted from him in continuous jets, filling Harry's receptive body. "Oh, bloody hell... So fucking good... Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck..."

His waist covered in come, Harry frowned at Ron's distress. "Ron, what's going on?" he asked hoarsely.

Panting, Ron nervously gulped as the spasms of his cock subsided. "Well, you see… you've apparently gone through a heat...as an Omega."

"What's an...Omega?"

"You know how some wizards and witches are born able to speak Parseltongue?" Ron waited for Harry's nod of acknowledgment. "It's rare and tends to run in families. The same can be said about being an Alpha or Omega. What makes being a male Omega particularly special is" —A thrill spread through Ron's chest— "they have the ability to bear children."

"Bear children…" Harry regarded his flat stomach, his jaw dropping in disbelieving awe. "But… I don't… How?"

Ron gestured at the fallen perfume bottle on the floor. "Fred and George. If you or I were a natural Omega or Alpha, the trait would have become apparent around puberty… The wankers somehow managed to bottle it." He shook his head with grudging admiration.

"So does that mean I could be pregnant?" Hope surged through Harry, causing tears to form at the corners of his eyes. "Because...I couldn't imagine a better person to start a family with than you."

Ron was speechless, overcome with relief and happiness. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he answered Harry's question. "Yeah, it means we'll be having a baby."

Harry laughed joyfully, hugging Ron and placing a quick kiss on his lips.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

Ron caressed Harry's cheek and, at last conquering his fear, said the words, "I love you. I've loved you as more than just a friend for a while now."

Smiling, Harry began crying in earnest. "I love you, too." He never dreamed of his life with Ron starting like this, but that it had begun was what mattered to him. And as it turned out, it was even better than anything he had imagined.

"So," Ron grinned, wiping away Harry's happy tears, "what should we do about Hermione and especially Fred and George? Should we sing their praises or make them suffer?"

They looked at each other, and then at the same time said with relish, "Suffer."

No sooner had the word left their mouths than they heard a click from the door as it locked once again.

Fin

Thank you for reading! Comments are Love. :)

Artwork based on this story can be found on DeviantArt under the name ladyofsilverdawn.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.