Author's Note: I realize that I didn't post a chapter for Valentine's Day, which was probably a dick move on my part. It wasn't really as a lack of time, either, since I was bitterly alone on the holiday. Hhhhhh...probably why I wasn't in the mood to write in the first place. However, in order to hopefully make up for it, I will post my next chapter sooner than usual. Let me here you say "Go write that fucking chapter, you crazy bum!"

This chapter was brought to you all with the aid of Coco Pebbles and Nilla Wafers...

Ron stood before the mirror in the upstairs bathroom. He was here because he had offered to run to the toilet and fetch Harry a towel. The reason he looked as though he had just sprinted the entirety of the house several times was because, not half a minute ago, Ron had experienced the best orgasm he had probably ever had in his life. It had felt more…thorough. As if his entire body had erupted instead of just his cock. Perhaps it was because of the way Harry had so suddenly taken initiative. Perhaps it was seeing Harry's confident smirk and feeling so helpless in the presence of that emerald stare. Perhaps it was because Harry had touched him in different ways this time…ways Ron hadn't experienced yet.

Whatever it was, that bloody prostate thing certainly had a heavy part in it.

He hadn't known how different it would feel, getting fingered in the arse and whatnot. Well, he had some idea, judging by the way Harry always moaned and writhed beneath him when Ron was doing the same exact thing. But this had been a bit of a shocker.

For instance, he had just assumed Harry was noisy in bed. He often exclaimed his pleasure loud enough for Ron to hear, as well as be concerned that others were listening in. He figured they probably were, ever since his father had informed him of their volume. But Ron had been moaning just the same this time. Perhaps not as loud, he didn't think. That record still probably belonged to Harry. But the way it felt called for at least some vocalization. Some way to inform the other person that you were about ready to pass out from all the tingling in your pelvic region. A mouth over his cock, dark hair tickling his navel, and something rubbing insistently at a spot that shot pleasure up through your stomach from each contact. It all happened at once, and for quite a while.

His legs were still a bit wobbly. His arse ached a bit as well, since it was obviously not used to having foreign appendages inside it. However, as he looked over his flushed face, trembling hands, and overall breathless appearance, Ron couldn't help but grin to himself. He certainly liked it, that was for sure.

He tripped over to the linen closet, which was in a complete state as always, and fumbled around for a small towel. He got it wet with a run of the faucet, too. Harry probably wouldn't want a sticky cheek for the rest of the afternoon, despite how insanely arousing it was for Ron to have his cum proudly displayed on another boy's face. Especially such an attractive face…

Ron groaned and headed out the door, willing his tired cock to just calm down. He didn't need to get all excited again, especially when Harry was probably almost blinded by his spunk. Well, he was almost blind anyways, what with his vision so heavily impaired, but he didn't need the unbearable sting of semen entering the safety of your eye as well, because it hurt like a bitch.

Not that Ron's aim was so unfortunate the he had once experienced such a feeling, or anything…

"Hey," Ron said as he stumbled back into the room, trying to put strength back in his voice so that he didn't sound as wobbly as he felt. "D'you…d'you want me to get it, or – ?"

Harry laughed, reaching up for the proffered towel. "I've got it, thanks."

Ron watched as the towel swiped over that smooth face. Harry had taken his glasses off, which had unfortunately taken some of the blow as well, and they were resting on the surface of the blanket. Ron always liked when Harry had his glasses off. He was more able to see those almond-shaped green eyes and that adorable nose. Though admittedly the glasses gave Harry an innocent look that, while entirely deceiving, made Ron randier than a Puffskein in June.

June was when Puffskeins were known to mate. Vigorously.

And as he watched, Harry taking on that usual vacant expression whenever he couldn't see, Ron couldn't help but think again about what this new step had meant, exactly. The fact that Harry was getting bolder, taking charge now in their sexual explorations, meant that he would soon most likely want Ron to be on the receiving end of…it.

He didn't mind too much, honestly. He figured it was only fair that if he did it to Harry, Harry had the right to deflower him as well. Mind, he didn't really know if this still counted as him being a virgin. Were you a virgin if you had fucked somebody, but they hadn't fucked you yet? Urgh, this gay thing was so difficult. Would he ever understand what the bloody hell was going on?

Ron guessed that, no, he probably didn't have the innocent little virginal twinkle in his eye anymore. He hadn't ever really felt innocent, to tell the truth, what with all the trouble he found himself in. Growing up one spot down from the twins meant that they were the closest influence, which was never a good thing. Anything they 'influenced' usually tended to explode. But the twins hadn't taught him to be a complete pervert and enjoy copious amounts of fornication with 'the Chosen One' of the wizarding world. That was all Ron.

So yes, he didn't mind that Harry would eventually want to fuck him. He must be getting bloody curious, and Ron's innocence had been thrashed to pieces long ago. Plus, if it felt anything like five minutes ago did…

He shivered.

"What is it?" Harry asked, placing his glasses back over his eyes.

"Still reeling from coming so hard," Ron admitted truthfully. He walked forward and flopped down on the bed, lying inelegantly on his stomach.

Harry laughed, his nose crinkling yet again and pearly teeth making an appearance. Ron hated it when he did that. It made him think the word 'cute' over and over, and it made his stomach feel strange. He knew what the small tingling in his midsection meant now, and it only made him more nervous than before.

But a smirk formed when he noticed Harry shift uncomfortably.

"Got a bit of a problem there?" he asked teasingly.

"Not 'a bit' of one," Harry quipped, but his cheeks were already turning red. Whenever Harry's 'needs' were discussed, they usually did.

"Why, d'you like me coming on your face?" Ron chuckled. He had meant it as a joke, but when Harry didn't say anything in response, Ron bit his lower lip.

Must…not…get hard…

He distracted himself by lifting up from his position. As Ron crawled over to Harry, who was warily watching his every move, he realized that the only way to divert his attention the most was to tease Harry with naughty talk. That always brought a laugh, if not anything else.

"So you do like it?" he taunted, leaning closer to the other boy. The tip of his nose was tickled by unruly black hair, and it smelled entirely of Harry. A sort of heavy-warm-sweet smell, like the biscuits his mum makes sometimes for special tea. Perhaps a thick sort of vanilla, or something? Whatever it was, it was a bit unexpected from a bloke who played Quidditch every waking moment of his life. Or, when he wasn't doing that, he was being molested by Ron in a dark, stuffy room. It was probably his bloody expensive hair-potion that he used. Ron could never remember him smelling like this before.

Though, before he hadn't really gotten close enough to smell Harry in the first place. Now, Ron rather liked inhaling the scent of his hair.

What? He was allowed.

"You smell good," he breathed against Harry's scalp, explaining his long-running silence.

"Er, thanks…"

"Want me to take care of that?" he said lightly, reaching between Harry's legs and firmly grasping the subject of discussion.

"Hn-! Er…y-yeah, if you want – "

"RON!"

Ron sighed heavily, closed his eyes, and bellowed back to the voice from downstairs that belonged to his dearest mother.

"WHAT?"

Harry winced, and Ron realized too late that he was still next to Harry's ear. He pulled back, smiling sheepishly.

"COME DOWNSTAIRS AND HELP ME WITH THE GNOMES!"

"CAN'T YOU GET SOMEONE ELSE TO DO IT?" he shouted, rolling his eyes for Harry's benefit. Harry chuckled.

"NO! EVERYONE ELSE IS…TOO ILL!"

"YOU MEAN HUNG-OVER?"

"WELL, YES! HELP YOUR MUMMY!"

"Ugh…ALRIGHT!" he bellowed back, admitting defeat.

Ron reached for Harry's trousers again.

"Oi, I thought you just – "

"It can wait a bit," he said mischievously.

Ron snaked his hand into the jeans quickly before Harry's morals could outweigh his hard-on. He knew that Harry would no doubt play the martyr for the sake of doing chores if he had the chance to think about it, but the low moan that passed through those delicious pink lips signaled that Ron had acted in time.

He leaned forward and nipped at Harry's ear, making sure to squeeze around his erection at the same time.

"Did you like that?" Ron said, grinning despite himself. "I can't wait for you to do it again…"

"W-what?" Harry asked shakily.

"Touch me again," he answered, pulling open Harry's trousers a bit more. "I like the way you feel in me…"

"Oh god," Harry said lowly. He sounded foreboding, but Ron could feel the other boy's grip on his forearm tightening, which gave him away. His jumper would have protested at the rough treatment, but Ron found it hard to complain.

He brought up a hand and pushed Harry's chest lightly, indicating that he should lie down. Ron followed with him, however, staying latched to Harry's ear in order to continue breathing naughty things into it. It always moved along the process, and he had to work rather quickly in case his mum decided to come snooping.

"Mmm…I hope it's more next time," he said cheekily, getting a shuddering breath in response. "Other things in me, perhaps…"

Ron gave another slow pull up his cock to accent his point, making sure Harry understood just what he was suggesting.

"You…you want me to?" Harry managed breathlessly.

"Yeah," he said simply. "I think it would be hot, don't you think? You, pushing into me like that – "

He stroked slowly along Harry's erection.

" – making me moan like I did just now – "

He gave another nip to Harry's ear.

" – calling out your name as you fuck me hard like I know you want to…"

He felt Harry's hips push up, his breath catching again.

"You can do all those things, if you want. You can take me right here, if you feel like," he licked slowly along Harry's jaw line, feeling the smooth skin against his tongue until he found Harry's lips.

"You want to fuck me, Harry?"

Ron tried not to laugh at the helpless look on Harry's face. His eyes were wide, almost disbelieving, and his face was ablaze with color. His body squirmed, his hands gripped the blankets. He looked like he would very much enjoy the picture Ron was painting, yet seemed unable to confirm it. Ron snagged that plump lower lip with his teeth, wondering if he would ever get an answer.

It came in the form of a moan, and Ron felt hands thread through his own hair.

Harry pulled him closer, and Ron obliged. They snogged heatedly, Ron stroking firmly with his right hand in order to get Harry off effectively. Unfortunately, he could feel his own length getting a bit stiff, as it was starting to strain against his trousers again, but he would have to deal with that later. Harry gasped and grunted in between kisses, their mouths only breaking apart briefly before their tongues twined together again. The black-haired boy seemed almost desperate, despite the fact that all Ron was doing was wanking him. The sight of him, lying there, breathless and pink-faced, was too arousing.

In order to avoid having to face his mum with a full-on erection, Ron leaned more over Harry's body and put his face to Harry's shoulder so that he didn't have to watch. However, the heavy breathing against his ear and the occasional sensation of teeth on his neck did little to quell his arousal. Damn.

With a breathy moan that made Ron shudder, Harry's body convulsed again and he came. Ron felt the cum flood over his hand, heard the indecipherable words muttered into his shoulder, and winced as his hair was tugged rather forcefully.

It made him insanely randy.

They lay there, panting, though Harry a bit more so. When his arm began to feel less fatigued, Ron leaned up to survey the damage. Or, perhaps to just get a look at how attractive Harry was post-orgasm, who knew for sure…

He cursed himself again.

Harry's cheeks were enflamed and his green eyes were shining, despite the glassy barriers that somewhat hid them. He let his hands fall back from Ron's hair as he pulled away. They landed above his head, splayed out on the bed in a way that just begged for him to be ravished again. Ron was beginning to rethink his promise of Harry fucking him. It was still him who looked so…fuckable.

He gulped.

"RON!"

"Ergh! I'M COMING!" he bellowed agitatedly. Such a lovely way to have one's arousal spoiled. By his own mother…

Harry laughed breathlessly, clearly amused at his annoyance. Ron sneered back, but gave him yet another kiss before he climbed off.

"I shan't expect you be long," he said, slinking off towards the door. "You probably won't have to help, though. Merlin knows she'll make me do all the work while you sit it out."

"That's okay. It means I can watch you get all sweaty," Harry replied in a cheeky way. Well, as cheeky as one could look while appearing so lifeless.

"Best to change your trousers first," Ron smirked.

He closed the door, laughing as he heard Harry swear under his breath.

"Wow mum, that was a good one."

He watched as the twelfth gnome that day sailed over the fence, jabbering angrily in a language no one could understand. If they could, however, Ron didn't reckon they would be overly kind words…

He rummaged beneath one of the overgrown rosebushes and yanked out another, which then proceeded to try and sink its little razor teeth into his gloved hand.

"I don't think so," he snarled, dangling it upside-down so that it couldn't reach him. He held it by the ankle, swung it round a fair few times, and then hurled it over the fence to be rid of the thing. It gabbled scathingly all the way through the air, until a soft puff signaled its landing in the snow quite a distance away.

He panted slightly, his breath coming out in a mist from the cold. He looked back to see Harry watching from the sitting room window. Harry waved, his nose crinkling as he laughed adorably. Ron swallowed, waved back, and turned away again to ease his stomach.

"Mum, why are we doing this on Boxing Day, of all days?" Ron whined, slumping over to her as she knelt in the snow. "I thought we weren't supposed to work…?"

She glared up at him.

"You know quite well that this doesn't count. Plus, I've been putting this off for weeks. The gnomes must have been growing some sort of army back here…" she shook her head.

"You only put it off until we all come home for Christmas," Ron mumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said fervently. An hour out in the frigid air had taken away his basic common sense, it seemed. However, that didn't stop him from wanting to complain. "But it's cold out! And I want to see Harry…"

"I think you've seen quite enough of him for the past few nights," she replied lowly, a hint of a smirk on her face.

"Muuuum!" he wailed, eyes going wide.

"It's quite alright, dear. Everyone does it at some point."

"Mum!"

"All I'm saying Ronald is that I understand. He's a handsome boy, after all…"

"This was horrible enough with dad," he said firmly, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck. "Please, don't…"

She held up her hands in defense, but mercifully said no more. His mother stood back up, empty-handed of any more little beasts at this point.

"Well, I reckon that's all of them for now," she sighed, wiping her cloak free from snow. "At least until next week. Shall we head inside for tea?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Thank you for helping mummy with the gnomes, dear," she reached over and ruffled his hair annoyingly, but he allowed it.

"No problem."

They trudged through the snowy backyard, making their way up to the warmth of the house. Ron couldn't help but feel grateful for heating charms. Scarves just didn't do enough when you were outside chasing little potato-sized creatures…

"Oh my, look at that," his mother said in an almost smug voice.

Ron looked to where she was smirking, at the window, through which Harry was seen holding up two steaming mugs. One of them was stuffed with marshmallows to the point where it was almost overflowing…

"He's quite charming, isn't he dear?" she said knowingly.

Ron blushed again, ducking his head as he tried not to show it.

"Yeah…" he muttered truthfully.

When they came through the back door, Harry approached and handed them each a mug.

"I would have made tea, but everyone else looked…er…didn't look hungry, so I just made hot chocolate for you instead," Harry shrugged sheepishly. "I hope that's alright."

"Yes, yes, quite alright," his mother said, waving a hand. "Thank you so much, Harry dear! Now you sit down like I told you to do…silly boy…"

"Yes Mrs. Weasley."

Harry grabbed his own mug and wandered toward the sofa. Ron made to follow him, and his mother bustled off towards the kitchen, giving him a wide smirk that she didn't even bother to hide. Ron sighed and sat next to Harry. It would be a while before he heard the end of this…

"Thanks, by the way," Ron added, raising his mug to Harry.

"No problem. Oi, how'd the gnomes go? I didn't even know they stayed here in the winter," he said curiously."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Where else would they go?"

"I dunno, I figured they migrated or hibernated or something…"

"What or what?" Ron asked, confused as all hell. "I think those muggles turned you mad."

Harry chuckled, but didn't elaborate.

As Ron watched the other boy, taking a cautious sip of his extra-sweet hot chocolate, he noticed that Harry seemed rather content. The only times Ron had ever seen him as such were after they had fooled around and he was too spent, or whenever he was simply here at the Burrow. Perhaps sometimes at Hogwarts, but never in such a…happy way. It was almost sad. Had Harry really never relaxed enough to where he couldn't be at ease like this anywhere else?

He supposed that being Harry Potter brought with it several downers. There was the madman having returned using the captured blood of said boy, constantly making attempts to kill him. There was the fact that the papers couldn't leave him alone for ten bloody minutes. There was the combined support and hate that followed him around in the form of spectators, fans, and enemies. Plus the obvious problem of having a lightning scar on your forehead so that everyone knew who you were right from the start.

But there were things Harry had been through that didn't even have to do with his fame. For the first eleven years of his life, Harry had been raised by muggles who had barely even known who he was. Not only that, but they were the most horrid muggles Ron had ever heard of. He had heard of bad ones, too. Apparently, some of them followed you around, writing little slips of paper to tell you if you did something wrong and pinning them to your car. Others still would stand on street corners, shouting that you should buy their merchandise or give them money for no reason at all. Hell, he had heard that some would even steal the letters from your home before you could send them, putting them in large bags where they were carried off and never seen again. Why on Earth would they do that?

Ron had no idea, but none of those muggles were as mad as the ones who had tortured Harry for his entire childhood. Ron wasn't blind. He had heard brief stories, glimpses of the life Harry had been forced to live before Hogwarts. He had seen Harry get steadily more depressed as the end of term approached each year. While most of the kids were happy for the summer, ready to spend three months away from essays and stuffy classrooms, Harry always took on a gloomy demeanor. He would try to hide it, of course. Say that it was nothing. But Ron and Hermione knew that it was because he would be forced to live another hot, dry summer with people who despised him. People who should have been fucking grateful to be in his very presence.

Didn't they know how many lives Harry had saved? How many muggle lives, especially? In that window of time that You-Know-Who had been gone, the window that had held so much peace for the wizarding world, there were no unexplained deaths that the muggles didn't understand. There weren't mass murders in the streets anymore that had to be hastily covered up. Yes, You-Know-Who was back, but if he had been rampaging the streets for all those years, the years that Harry had saved when he was just a baby, then there may not have been any muggles left today. At least when You-Know-Who had been around the first time, he had held wizard blood a bit higher than muggles'. But barely. If you were muggle-born or if you didn't play by their horrid rules, you would be tortured and murdered in an instant. Muggles themselves were just pawns over-populating an otherwise powerful world, according to them.

Ron was only so lucky that he hadn't lived during those times. He remembered the talk of the great Harry Potter. The one who had saved them all when he was just an infant. The one who had vanquished the Dark Lord forever, yet no one knew how. His mum had shown him the Prophet that had been printed that day, the day they found Harry. It all seemed so weird now, when he had a chance to think of it. When the article described a young child who had sustained a lightning-shaped cut on his forehead, an orphaned boy who was being kept safe from Death Eaters, Ron never would have imagined that he would one day be shagging that boy in his room upstairs…

"Ron?"

He choked on the hot beverage, scalding his throat. Ron had forgotten where he was for a moment.

"Good lord, are you alright?" Harry asked, sounding perturbed. He thumped him on the back, not really helping matters.

"Fine," Ron gasped, taking another drink to ease the burning. "What is it?"

"Your mum called us. I think something's wrong."

Ron stood, wondering what on Earth could be happening now. His gloomy thoughts hadn't put him in a very good mood already. Now they had something else to worry about?

They made their way into the kitchen and saw immediately what was the source of worry. The Daily Prophet sat accusingly on the kitchen table, apparently having finally been picked up from the floor and looked at. But that wasn't all.

"Hello, Harry. Mister Weasley."

Professor Dumbledore stood, tall and sparkling, in his mum's very kitchen. He was sparkling because the stars patterning the headmaster's purple robes seemed extra vibrant today. He looked too regal to be here, what with the wooden floors and the scrubbed table. It didn't quite fit next to his long, white beard, his twinkling blue eyes, and his elegant posture. He looked like he belonged in…well…Hogwarts.

"Hello sir," they both said, Ron a bit more worriedly than the other. He didn't know what was going on. Were they in trouble?

"Ron, why didn't you tell me about this?" his mother said irritably, gesturing at the paper. He could tell that she would be a lot more angry if the headmaster wasn't currently in their presence. Perhaps it was a good thing that he was here after all. "I didn't even see the paper this morning!"

"Sorry," he said genuinely. "I forgot."

"Forgot?" she said, narrowing her eyes in disbelief.

"Well, yeah. Me and Harry decided that we were…we were just gonna ignore it, and whatever happens…you know…" he trailed off under the quelling stare of his mother.

"A wise choice, in fact," Dumbledore said, nodding once. "It is, unfortunately, how one must act in the face of such publicity," his beard twitched, but then his expression turned a bit more serious. "However, there are other things that may take a bit more than bravery to overcome. I'm terribly sorry to impose yet again, Molly…"

"Oh, it's nothing at all," she said absently, her eyes still fixed on Ron. He knew there would be a talk later of 'not telling her the important things' or something along those lines. The thought made him sigh in resignation.

"Would you be willing to call the rest of your family?" Dumbledore asked politely. "I fear we may have to speak about some safety precautions…"

"Yes, yes," she said, snapping her eyes away from Ron long enough to look back at the headmaster. "We'll all meet in here."

She walked to the door and called out, summoning everyone to the kitchen.

"Safety precautions?" Ron asked, looking briefly over at Harry. "I thought…"

"Well, this is why you should have told me," his mother scolded from the doorway. "If some…" she pursed her lips, "photographer can see you two in the orchard, then clearly someone knows where we are. It was highly dangerous to not tell anyone, Ronald, and you could have put Harry at risk if people knew he was here."

"But…but I thought the orchard wasn't charmed," Ron said, panicking. Great, it was all his fault.

"Of course it's charmed," his mother scoffed. "We wouldn't let you kids play out there if it wasn't."

She called up the stairs again, this time a bit more harshly.

"But then, someone could have come and…oh Merlin, I'm such an idiot!" Ron muttered, bringing a hand up to his forehead. It wasn't even a question. He had put Harry in a great deal of danger…

"Oi, I didn't know either," Harry said next to him reassuringly. "It's not that bad…"

"Yes, mister Weasley," Dumbledore added in his smooth tone. For an old bloke, he had a fairly powerful voice… "If another was aware of the whereabouts of the house, there is still a fair amount of protection to keep you all safe. Not to boast of my own abilities, of course," he added, giving a small smile. "However, I shall explain further when everyone is present."

As if on cue, the door swung open and a tired-looking Bill Weasley walked in, followed by his many other siblings and father. Apparently they had all been congregated somewhere, probably hiding from any bright lights. Ron rolled his eyes.

What a wondrous view this must be of his family.

Dumbledore, looking rather amused, waited patiently as they all filed in. Once Ron's family had actually noticed the man in their kitchen, exclamations of surprise and greetings sounded towards the headmaster, as if they were all greeting an old friend. Ron still felt so oddly out of place in the presence of such a powerful man, but he supposed that Dumbledore worked with most of his family in the order. They were all well acquainted by now, since most of them worked in the ministry and gathered information, which always eventually made it back to Dumbledore.

When he had politely (as always) asked everyone to sit down at the table, Dumbledore sat somewhere near the end so that they could all see him properly. It was strange. It looked like he was joining them for dinner, yet so clearly out of place in the Burrow.

"I understand that some of you may be rather…worn from the festivities of the recent holidays," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he smiled, several redheads looking back at him sheepishly. "However, I feel that this matter is somewhat important. Molly has informed me that, recently, your youngest son has told you something very important concerning himself and Harry…"

Ron felt himself turning pink, and Harry looked rather embarrassed as well. Great…

"And that something has now been made more public than I'm sure they had wanted it to be," Dumbledore continued.

"Wait, what d'you mean?" Fred asked, perking up slightly at the news.

"An unfortunate and unknown circumstance has made the story public," the headmaster said seriously. "The Daily Prophet has printed what I'm sure was meant to be a private matter, and unfortunately several people are aware of Harry and mister Weasley's newfound relationship."

"But how?" Ron's father asked, looking scandalized.

"There was a picture," Ron said, sighing. "And an article, but I didn't really read it."

"But, we protected the house, no one should have been able to get in," his father explained, looking back to Dumbledore. "It doesn't make sense, Albus."

"Yes," Dumbledore said. His voice had a tone that made it sound as though he were about to say something very important, and silence fell around the table. "However, if someone were to disclose the location of the house, that person would then know of its whereabouts."

"Yes, but they couldn't enter," Ron's mother pointed out.

"But they would be able to see the house, Molly," his father added darkly. "If…if they knew it was there…"

A careful silence greeted his words.

"And be able to take a picture?" Ron added hollowly.

Dumbledore nodded.

"But, no one disclosed the information," Charlie added, looking around. "Did they?"

"That, in part, is why I have asked that all of us be gathered here," the headmaster said slowly. "I would like to inquire if anyone here has told someone else of the whereabouts of this house?"

Author's Note Again: Aww sheeit. Dumbledore's layin' down the ass-whuppins...